


Like a Mirror

by Bluemary



Series: Meant to belong [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, BAMF Loki, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, PTSD, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Past Torture, Possessive Loki, Post Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 96
Words: 168,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluemary/pseuds/Bluemary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Man is dead, Tony Stark is broken and Loki just happens to be in the right place at the right time. What would you do if you found your favorite enemy mute and in chains?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Dead Hero

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Jak lustro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5170490) by [tymianek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tymianek/pseuds/tymianek)
  * Translation into 中文 available: [如明镜](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929056) by [fairytale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytale/pseuds/fairytale)



> My first attempt at writing in English! Please, let me know if there are too many errors, since I'm not a native speaker.

**Prologue: Dead hero**

 

_Iron Man was dead._

_The weakest and most immoral and annoying part of himself was still there, because Tony Stark was still alive, but he was just an empty shell, a former shadow of the brilliant hero who had protected the Earth and advanced single-handed the human technology. He had fallen, defeated by his own arrogance and impotence. And he wasn't worthy anymore._

_A pair of brown eyes opened in a pitch black room, but there weren't any emotions in them._

_Those eyes were empty._

 

 

The room was so cold it seemed carved in stone. The only thing in the place delimited by those inhospitable four walls was a bucket for when he needed to relieve himself, because, a part from that, his prison was completely empty: they didn't allow him to have a bed, nor a blanket, and without the clothes the cold was unbearable.

He was sitting on the icy floor, with his knees against his chest, careful non to put his weight on his wounds. The weight of the chains, which bound his wrists together and both his arms with the iron collar on his neck, was becoming too much to endure, so he rest his hands on his knees and sighed.

He was always bound like this when he was in that cellar, and only when the guards decided it was time to hurt him again he was freed from those chains, just to be bound with his hands above his head in the torture chamber. He looked down at his wrists, where there was a red circle, a mix of dried blood and open wound, due to his harsh restraints. He brushed it with his fingers, ignoring the familiar suffering that flared with just a simple touch.

The pain was nothing new to him. It had been part of his life, way before than Afghanistan, it had been his faithful companion in his path as Iron Man and now it was the only sensation that differed from a cold numbness.

He shifted, stifling a groan.

His back was healing, and now he could lay down without biting his lips to suppress a scream. That just meant he was about to be taken to another torture session.

He didn't have any means to know how much time he was spending in his little prison, and truthfully he didn't care, but he could guess that he was being tortured every four or five days. It wasn't a real, unbearable torture, like the one Natasha sometimes had spoken about: just the whipping, the beatings, and the little burns when his captors wanted to play with the cigars on his naked arms and shoulder. It wasn't anything that could harm him in a really grave way, even when they were whipping him, they were careful non to tear his skin too much; they didn't even break one of his bones, they didn't use knives or electricity. And they didn't use the water to hurt him, for which he was oddly grateful, since it was the torture that scared him the most, after his experience in Afghanistan.

He grimaced, thinking about his captor.

It seemed that Johann Schmidt wanted him in pain, but not half dead. Covered in bruises but not utterly broken.

Maybe the Nazi was trying to break his will one wound at a time, not noticing he was already cracked; maybe he wanted to scare him, making him submitted to pain before requesting his help into building some weapon. Maybe Schmidt was simply a sadist who enjoyed torturing an enemy without even coming up with a pretext. He didn't really care; not worth looking for an answer.

Occasionally the routine changed: it was Schmidt himself the one who came to his cell with some guards; instead of taking him to the torture chamber, he guided him to a oddly luxurious part of the building. There, Tony didn't experience pain, just surprise. Sometimes he found himself in the dining room, where he could eat a real meal, with clean plates and cutlery, instead of the frowzy food that was brought in his prison only once a day. Other times Schmidt allowed him to have a shower or to shave, little kindnesses that maybe had the goal to make him speak, but actually let him completely indifferent.

On these occasions, his captor tried to interrogate him about the Avengers, and Steve in particular, and about the Arc Reactor; he offered him a room with a bed, instead of a prison, a real bathroom, instead of the bucket, and some clothes, if Tony answered his questions, all in vain. After seeing that this bargain didn't work, Schmidt tried to begin a conversation about many specific subjects, such as the weather, politic, mythology, just hoping for an answer from a man who was famous because of his inability to shut himself up.

But Tony never talked, not even once.

During the tortures he screamed, cried, whimpered for the pain. But his voice had expired with a last curse, yelled like it was a supplication, with his own blood that was suffocating him and the blood of his arrogance's victims that clouded his vision. And it didn't make sense, it wasn't _fair_ that he was still alive.

While the world was wondering where Iron Man was, while the Avengers were looking for their lost companion, while Fury and the S.H.I.E.L.D. were preparing to face a new threat without their most suitable man, Tony Stark closed his eyes and let the weariness and the pain win over his conscience.


	2. Chapter 1: Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, the kudos and the bookmarks, I didn't expect such a warm response for my first attempt to translate one of my stories! Also, if someone wanted to be my beta-reader, I'd be very grateful, since I'm still learning how to write properly in English.  
> 

**Chapter 1: Falling**

_Some unidentified terrorists had assaulted a little research facility in New Mexico. Nothing extraordinary or particularly interesting, if Tony hadn't notice that Fury was irritated – well, more irritated than he usually was. Still, it was suspicious, so he had told Jarvis to hack the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s server, a piece of cake for his AI. It had taken less than thirty minutes to discover why the spy was so upset: in that facility, thanks to the old data, they were trying to replicate something similar to the Tesseract._

_That, for Tony, had sealed the deal, so he was participating in the mission without complaining._

_His orders – not that he would have followed them to the letter – were clear: to capture or to kill the terrorists, to save the scientists, if they were still alive, and to try to preserve the data. Just a routine job, for Iron Man._

_And now he was flying at maximum speed in the light blue sky of New Mexico, enjoying the euphoric sensation of being completely free. Even after years, he still loved being in his suit. It was as though Iron Man was his real identity, the suit his own body. If only it were a little more comfortable, he would sleep in it, and not because of what Clint's dirty mind had suggested in several occasions._

“ _Stark, be careful, we still don't know the entirety of the enemy's forces.” an annoying but familiar voice interrupted his thoughts._

“ _Don't worry, Nick, I'll leave some weak soldiers for your agents, so you won't feel completely useless.” He closed the communication before letting Fury finish one of his usual offenses, then he switched frequency. “Nat, Legolas, where are you?”_

“ _We'll be here in an hour, maybe sooner.” the archer replied._

_In his visor, Tony saw that his goal was just a few miles away._

“ _Bring champagne and the cake, then, because you'll arrive just in time to celebrate my triumph.”_

_He closed the communication and, in a couple of minutes, he reached his destination. There were eighteen armed men on the outside and Jarvis localized twenty more, between terrorists and hostages, on the inside. Alone against almost forty people, then, but enemies' number didn't matter if you were Iron Man. Without hesitation, Tony landed in front of the soldiers in his classic Iron Man position. The surprised terrorists didn't even reacted before he aimed at them with both his hand, smiling inside his helmet._

“ _Just to be clear, you're all my prisoners. Now put the guns down and kneel with the hands behind your head, like good little terrorists.”_

_As always, the criminals were moronically predictable: they aimed at him with the rifles and guns, preparing to shoot. And Tony shot faster. Two seconds later, all the terrorists were dead, shot down before they could alert their companions. Now he just had to deal with the remaining criminals._

_Once he entered the facility and reached the underground level, he froze. Not because of the hostages, little children with tears on their terrified faces, nor because of the dead bodies of the scientists all around them. He froze because the terrorist who seemed in charge and now was staring at him with a cold smile was awfully familiar._

_Jarvis confirmed his suspicions, silently identifying the man in the visor. In front of him stood Johann Schmidt, Cap's nemesis, Hitler's supporter for opportunism and a full-time son of a bitch._

“ _You're that guy with the serious tanning issue, aren't you?” Tony asked, wondering how the Nazi could have found a mask identical to the one he wore during World War II._

_Schmidt didn't even try to reach for his gun, he just continued staring at him._

“ _And you must be Iron Man.”_

_Tony smiled, allowing Jarvis to send the video and audio feed to Fury and the other Avengers, so they would be informed of who the enemy was this time._

“ _Still smart, despite your age.” He aimed at the terrorist, a shot to kill or at least to gravely injured someone more powerful than a normal human being. “I thought our good old boy-scout had freed the Earth from nazi scum like you, but it seems this pleasure will be mine instead.”_

_Schmidt smiled back, pointing at the soldiers around him._

“ _Not so fast, if you don't want some collateral damage”_

_Tony clenched his jaw. He didn't like his voice, the way the Nazi had spoken remind him too much of Obadiah and he still could feel the wounds his betrayal had left in his heart – literally in his heart, since some days the Arc Reactor seemed far too heavy for his chest._

_In front of his eyes there were ten kneeling hostages, all children, because S.H.I.E.L.D.'s morons had built the underground lab near a school. Tony shifted his attention back to Schmidt; the Nazi possessed superhuman abilities, maybe he was as strong as Steve, but the other terrorists were normal people and he, as Iron Man, was faster and stronger than all of them combine. He faked his surrender in the same way he had done in Gulmira, dropping his hands._

“ _Jarvis, are you ready to get rid of the bad guys?”_

_Inside the helmet, he could see all the terrorists marked as red target, while the children were marked with the less menacing civilian blue._

“ _Of course I am, Sir.”_

“ _Good. Then why don't we show the nazi granpa some of the newest technology of this century?”_

_He smiled when he felt the suit loading the winning shot._

_And then all went to hell._

 

Tony opened his eyes with a broken gasp.

The dark was suffocating, his prison smelled of blood and his fake heart was hurting his chest.

In the too deep silence of his own thoughts, he wondered again if he wanted to be saved.

 

 

He looked at the interrogation room through the one-way mirror, wondering how the prisoners could always be so easy to trick: too stupid to notice the danger behind a pretty face, too simpleminded to realize how fake was her frailty.

They never learned.

They saw the woman instead of the assassin and paid dearly for their foolish blindness and naivety when Natasha made them scream until they didn't have voice anymore.

This terrorist was just like many others before him: he had smirked seeing the too emotional expression Natasha had assumed in the first part of the interrogation. Then she had dislocated his shoulder and broken his elbow. And his hand. And all his fingers, in what she called 'a little warm-up'. After that, the Widow had grabbed one of her tools, and then there had been blood.

Clint continued staring at the interrogation with hands clenched into fists and body tense like he were about to start a fight.

He knew that, at every hit, at every agonizing scream from the tortured prisoner, the woman he loved was approaching the dark abyss where she risked to loose herself, a bloodstained past she had never been freed from. So he refused to take his usual position away from everything, to be a distant observer and nothing more; instead he look at every scene, every little detail, every gruesome aspect of this torture.

He noticed Natasha's tense shoulders, her blank expression, so far away from him and everything that it hurt him. But he never averted his gaze.

The terrorist resisted just a few more minutes before surrendering and revealing where Red Skull was keeping Stark, the voice rough and broken while he was barely conscious.

 

After the debriefing with Fury, Clint followed Natasha without speaking nor looking at her. He wasn't surprised when they end up in a little washroom, where she took her time to clean all the tools she had used during the interrogation. Her hands didn't tremble, he noticed; her gaze was blank, just like her face, hiding all of her thoughts, and she didn't even seem aware of his presence.

Clint remained silent at her side, waiting for her to finish. He just wanted to remind her that she was still one of the good guys, that he was there, ready to save her from her past one more time, if she needed to.

It was only when the last tool was as clean as new that she met his eyes. She still wore her usual expressionless mask, but her shoulders weren't tense anymore.

“Let's go, we have to take Stark back”, she told him, hiding a knife in her right boot.

Clint smiled, glad she was with him again.

“After you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be online in a few days, finally with Loki. In the meanwhile, I hope this update didn't disappoint you.


	3. Chapter 2: Silent steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and the kudos! As I promised, there will be Loki in this chapter and I hope you'll like it.
> 
> Special thanks go to my amazing beta Sara, who was so kind to correct and edit this chapter. Sara, I really wish I could thank you enough!

**Chapter 2: Silent steps**

 

_No one was aware of his presence._

_He walked with silent steps into the relics chamber, where testaments of ancient victories laid forgotten in the dark. The walls seemed to whisper old tales of glory and heroic acts that were now no more than faraway legends. Just a few remembered, in these last few centuries of peace; the war was impressed only in the oldest Æsir's wrinkles, only in the stories passed down from grandfather to grandson. No one knew how close the war had been to Asgard in the recent months._

_Loki slowed down his breathing, removing these last thoughts from his mind. He was now just a shadow, a breathless, weightless being, gliding in the mortal silence of the room without even a glimpse of his conscience, because a simple thought would have been enough to reveal his presence and to activate the defensive mechanism the All-Father himself had devised for the chamber._

_It was only an instant, and the thought of Odin almost made him lose control. He thinned his lips, because he could still feel a red hot grudge against his fake father. He still hated that horrible moment when all had appeared so clear and the truth had been revealed as painfully as an open wound – and the wound he had received that day was still spilling blood inside his heart. Maybe it would never heal. But his control didn't falter: he had been training for months for this day, so he wouldn't fail._

_Keeping his concentration, he reached the pedestal where the Casket of Ancient Winter had been moved after his attempt to destroy Jotunheim. There was something in it that attracted him and repelled him at the same time. It was through the Casket that he had discovered the truth, how all of his life had been based on a lie. But the Casket belonged to him, he could feel its call._

_For a moment he froze, divided between the Asgard prince he had impersonated all his life and his own nature, between the desire to possess a power no one could use better than him and the fear of seeing his light pink skin dissolving into blue, revealing the monster beneath his Æsir appearance._

_His breathing started to accelerate._

_They were all fools; the court which despised him without even knowing the truth, the ones that had deceived him since he was an infant, Odin, who had stared at him with a disappointed gaze – and he hated him, he hated the All-Father so much that the air seemed like a fire inside his lungs. Also Thor, his not-brother, that stupid oaf who had that wounded expression when they had fought near the Bifrost and, later, on Midgard._

_Just a bunch of fools._

_They had hidden a monster, with a spell based on lies and fake sentiments, and now that the spell had vanished they were surprised that the monster acted like one._

_A disturbance all around him drove him to regain control: he closed off his mind from all his memories, aligned his conscience with the pulsating magic which protected the artifacts and melt hims_ _elf with the chamber, erasing again every sound, smell or thought that could be perceived._

_Jotun or Áss, truth or lie, it didn't matter anymore, not now._

_What mattered was the power, the freezing energy in front of him, something cold and reassuring at the same time, like it were the crib he didn't remember. Soon there would be a war and he needed all the weapon he could find._

_He smiled while he was taking the Casket and he couldn't stop a single triumphant thought, as sharp as one of his knives, dissipating his invisibility spell that had hidden him even from Heimdall's gaze._

I've come to take what is rightfully mine, All-Father.

_And his laugh reverberated in the chamber even after he vanished, while Odin, sitting on his throne, opened his eyes with an horrified expression._

 

 

It had almost been a month since then.

A month since the Casket had disappeared, a month since Loki had been able to enter in the relics chamber, overcoming the guards and the spell which protected that place, to steal one of the most powerful artifacts in Asgard's possession. A month since he had been called back by his father to investigate.

In the last weeks, he hadn't had any success. Loki had vanished, maybe he was hiding in Midgard, maybe in one of the other Realms, and he feared for the other Avengers if his brother decided to attack them while he was in Asgard.

Loki was extremely dangerous even unarmed, but with the Casket he would have been unstoppable for his mortal friends – and, like any other times when he thought about the battle against the Chitauri, Thor wondered why his brother had surrendered so easily, without causing too much damage.

He shook his head.

Even if he was worried for his shield brothers and for Jane, there was Heimdall who watched over and guarded the Midgardians in his stead, and now he just had to concentrate for his father's summon.

He walked along the palace hall without even noticing the greetings and the friendly words from the people he passed by. He was sure that Odin wanted to talk about Loki and, as it always happened when his brother was involved, he couldn't think about anything else.

A wrinkle appeared on his forehead.

He was angry at his brother, but he felt his loss like a constant pain. It was like his happy childhood, the laughs, the joy of his youth had all been torn from him, now that Loki had disowned him as a brother and acted like a stranger.

And he felt guilty, because he feared to not have tried hard enough. He had _never_ tried hard enough to preserve their bond, because now he knew that he had been too arrogant to notice how cruel all the “know your place, brother” and the mockeries about his magic had been. And he hadn't been able to avoid his fall, when they were on the shattered Bridge, nor had he succeeded in convincing Loki to listen to him, during their fights on Midgard.

Loki had his own faults, he wouldn't deny it. But Loki would always be his brother and he knew that he himself wasn't utterly faultless either.

As soon as he reached the throne where Odin sat, he knelt, shifting his gaze between his father and his mother.

“Father, why have you summoned me?” he asked, before standing again at his signal.

For just one second, Odin's gaze seemed belonging to a tired old man, instead of the king of Asgard.

“Heimdall has perceived an energy similar to the Tesseract. On Midgard.”

Thor stared at his father with wide eyes, while his heart beat so fast he thought Odin could hear it.

“Is the Tesseract...?”

If Loki succeeded in taking the Tesseract, after already having taking the Casket, maybe even he, with Mjolnir and all the other Avengers, wouldn't be able to stop him.

Odin shook his head.

“It is still safe in Asgard. But there is a mortal who showed a power he should not possess, so you are to go face him.”

Thor nodded.

“And... what about Loki?”

“He's still shielding himself from Heimdall's gaze but he won't have missed this energy's emission.” Odin's voice and expression became tired again. “I'm sure you'll cross his path if you are fast enough.”

Thor nodded a second time. He couldn't wait to have another confrontation with his brother. Another chance to bring him back to Asgard, where maybe he could forgive him and be forgiven, to find again the Loki he once knew.

He bowed to his father, but as he was about to leave the room, he heard light steps behind him.

“Thor.”

Faking a smile which didn't reach his eyes, he turned to face his mother.

“Don't lose your hope. Even if he seems lost to us, he can still be saved, remember that, my son.” Frigga's hand stroked lightly his cheek, and for a moment Thor allowed himself to believe that all would go well “Bring your brother home.”

 

 

He woke up when the silence he was used to was broken by an explosion of unexpected noises. In a room not too far from his prison, guns were shooting, people were screaming in rage and agony, bodies were falling down, one after another, and he heard some orders being shouted in a panicked German that proved who was winning out there. And while he was listening to the fight, he didn't even tense or prepare to participate in the battle.

When all was silent again, he looked up at the steel door of his cell. After all these days, it seemed the other Avengers had found him; but now he was wondering if he really wanted to be saved. He didn't expect their arrival with hope or joy, nor with desire for vengeance, because he knew he didn't deserve their help.

“ _Iron Man... help... me.”_

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget who he was, while in the dark of his mind he could recognize twisted bodies, terrified faces and so much blood that it would forever stain his hands. Then a light rustle caught his attention, because he didn't hear any footsteps or voices, nor the door creaking open.

“Stark? This is truly a surprise.” He heard a silken voice somewhere in front of him. A voice that sounded quite familiar, even if not reassuring at all.

He abruptly opened his eyes again, recognizing a tall figure towering over him. But it wasn't one of his friends, as he had thought; it seemed the other Avengers had yet to find this place.

While the well-known intruder was staring at him, silent and menacing after the first question, Tony didn't even try to stand up or to put up a resistance. He just bowed his head, looking at the floor, and waited for the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please, let me know if you prefer longer chapters or more frequent updates.


	4. Chapter 3: Frost dust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and the kudos! I'm sorry for the delay, but I had a very busy weekend. And, as the last time, special thanks go to Sara, who did a wonderful job as a beta for this chapter too!

**Chapter 3: Frost dust**

 

He appeared in a large room full of unfamiliar machineries and Migardians with the white uniform he had learned to associate with the scientists. Near the doors, there were some soldiers, and it took just a couple of seconds for him to realize he had arrived exactly where he wanted: the power he had perceived was right in front of him, where three armed men were talking.

He dispelled the invisibility veil he had used to hide himself.

“I did not know that Midgardians with such power existed.” he said, in a mild interested tone.

He basked in the panicked gazes and the shouts that greeted his arrival, loving the fear, the astonishment, the terror he could cause with only his apparition. He allowed himself to smile, not even caring about the weapons those lowly mortals were threatening him with. As if he should fear their pathetic attacks.

One of the soldier dared to take a step forward, aiming at him with a rifle.

“Who are you? Identify yourself!”

Loki just had to make the slightest movement with his fingers to have his scepter materialize in his hand. It was similar to the one he possessed when he still thought he belonged to Asgard, but this one was more powerful.

“You dared to play god with a power which did not belong to you. And now the god himself has arrived and you can only kneel and beg for his forgiveness.”

“Shoot him down! Kill him!”

The soldiers started shooting him, but the bullets didn't even graze the invisible shield he had spelled upon himself. His smile widened until his teeth were showing.

“Oh, well, your choice then.”

He acted in a blink of an eye, closing his eyes to better feel his magic flowing in his veins and from his fingers. When he opened his eyes again, the floor was covered with blood and dead bodies. Other soldiers arrived, attracted by the screams and the shots, and he disposed of them with the same ease he had showed killing their companions.

Now there was just one survivor, the only one who hadn't screamed or showed a panicked reaction. Loki studied him with an interested gaze. Although he had a gun strapped to his thigh, he wasn't reaching for it, nor did he seemed scared. He was just flexing his fingers covered in black leather gloves, while staring back at the god.

Loki smiled again, lowering the scepter.

“You are the source of this power.”

The mortal took a step forward.

“And you're the god He is looking for.”

Loki's smile disappeared in an instant. His calm was gone, replaced by pure, suffocating rage, while the mortal's words echoed in his mind, colder than the air on Jotunheim.

“You are one of those who serve Thanos?”

The man began laughing, a hoarse, hollow sound belonging to someone who had been broken and built again, leaving behind part of his sanity – and Loki knew that sound so well it made him clench his fists.

“Only until I find a better faction to side with.”

The laughter stopped, leaving the mortal with a much saner appearance. He hesitated while studying the god, then he tore off his face, revealing that he had worn a mask. Loki stared at him with a cold curiosity: there was a red skull beneath his fake face. It seemed something had burned him and was still burning beneath the skin. While his wrath was distracted by that strange look, the mortal held out his hand.

“Be my ally, Loki of Asgard. Together we'll be able to defeat Him. Our superiority will allow us to rule the Earth and all the other Realms.”

This time it was Loki's turn to laugh, a more insane, menacing, lethal sound.

“Our superiority?” His laugh became an irate hiss “Foolish, arrogant mortal! You, for me, are no different from any other Midgardians.”

The man lowered his arm and shrugged.

“It's a pity, you would have been an useful ally. It seems I have no choice, then. I have to hand you over to Him.”

_There will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you._

The god's gaze hardened, showing a perfectly controlled rage behind the green of the irises.

“And you really think you possess the power to threaten me?”

Without answering, the mortal lifted his right arm, aiming at him with his gloved palm, and suddenly Loki was assailed by the same energy that had called him there. He tensed when the raw, unexpected power collided against his shield. It wasn't exactly magic; it seemed an energy that a Midguardian shouldn't be able to possess, so intense that it would have turned a mortal to shreds. Against him, it only made him take a step back, more out of surprise than everything else.

Before he could counter with a spell, the mortal was already attacking him with his bare hands. Loki dodged the first punches, then he had to step aside to avoid a violent kick, recognizing in his movement something similar to Captain Rogers. This mortal was showing the same strength and speed as the man out of time.

He would have smiled, glad to have found an interesting opponent, if the mention of Thanos hadn't constricted his chest with a cold resentment.

When the man attacked again, he used the scepter to deviate his arm and backhanded him in his red face.

“Pathetic mortal. You dare to use powers you cannot even hope to understand. You dare to threaten _me_.” he hissed, narrowing his eyes.

He dodged two more punches, then he hit the mortal in the back with his scepter.

Even if he wasn't as good as Thor in a purely physical fight, he was a god with centuries of experience in battles where he hadn't always used his magic. He didn't need to resort to his powers to defeat a Midgardian.

He hit him again, twice: in the face and in the stomach, with enough strength to make him step back. The punch the mortal succeeded in throwing at his chin was good, but didn't daze him. He had made Rogers kneel in Stuttgart without using his magic, he would defeat this man with a similar ease.

With a slight movement of his fingers, he made the scepter disappear and, instead of dodging the following attack, he blocked him with his hand. Suddenly, a blue energy burst out against his palm. He winced, before his own green magic arose to defend him, driving back the foreign power.

The mortal jumped back to avoid being damaged by it.

“It seems I won't be able to hold back against you.” Smiling, the mortal attacked again with his strange blue energy, but this time it was a lot more powerful and violent. “I've always desired to try my new powers in a fight against a worthy opponent.”

The shield would not be enough to protect him this time, Loki realized with an annoyed grimace, so

he called up his power again and met his attack halfway. For a moment there was a perfect balance, neither between the green and the blue energy seemed to be able to prevail. Then Loki concentrated a little bit more and the blue power began receding, while the green brightened the whole room.

The Midgardian struggled to maintain his position.

“How is it possible?” He wheezed, and for the first time his boldness faltered “I should be invincible!”

Loki snorted.

“Maybe among the mortals. But you dared to challenge a god and now you have to face the consequences.”

He didn't chose any spells, since he wanted to show the mortal that he could overpower him anytime he wanted. This time, the man staggered with a horrified gaze, while his arm started to tremble. Then he was thrown against the wall.

The black glove on his right hand had been dissolved by both of their energies and Loki was able to see a blue palm, the real source of that strange power.

He recognized it at first sight: it was the Tesseract. Somehow, the Midgardian possessed a glimpse of its power, like a shard of it had been fused with the skin of his hand.

“He will find you.” the mortal exhaled, still trembling in the aftershock of experiencing Loki's power “You need me as an ally, because Thanos is looking for you.”

It was that name that made the god lose his control. The memories of his fall, of the meeting with the Mad Titan began eroding his thoughts, bringing with them a pain so vivid it seemed real.

_Nothing. Nothing apart from pain and emptiness._

Loki tried to breathe, but his lungs didn't obey him anymore, they were collapsing in all this agony.

“ _You will never be able to escape from me, little god.”_

He wasn't in the Midgardian facility anymore, he was on a dark, shattered stone in the void.

_And the pain was so intense he felt his head splitting in half, his mind was broken, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't speak, he couldn't think, he was lost in the agony like a helpless child, no more a god, in front of the Titan, but a young being as frail as a mortal._

His magic arose in his defense without his call, a bright green flame which blazed up until it encased his opponent. The mark the Tesseract had left on his palm wasn't enough anymore and the mortal began screaming while the god's power slowly consumed him.

But it was too lenient a punishment for the one who had dared to threaten a god, to remind him of the times full of pain when he was in Thanos' hands.

The mortal had to be destroyed immediately.

While his mind was still fighting against those memories, he recalled the Casket from the recess where he had hidden his treasures, materializing it directly in his hands, both lifted near his chest. He didn't lower his gaze to see his body turning blue, he just drew the power from it with the same ease as he was breathing, letting the cold energy flow from his fingers and his arms to the pathetic mortal standing in front of him.

When he focused on his surroundings again, the Midgardian was frozen in a cage made of perfect, pure ice. He vanished the Casket without looking at his hands, then he took some deep breaths, to recover at least a part of his control.

The mortal was defeated, Thanos was far away and he could again lock his memories in the darkest recesses of his mind.

His eyes moved to his fallen enemy. Even if he had been one of Thanos' slaves, it would have been a waste if his power had died with him.

Loki evoked his sharpest knife, one which was made lethal by both forging and magic, and used it to cut off the mortal's right arm. After he removed the ice, he peeled the blue layer from the dead hand. It was like a second skin made of pure energy, but he didn't want to fuse it with his palm like the Midgardian had done, so he molded it into a pearl.

Even if it wasn't as precious or as powerful as the Tesseract, he could still attach it to his scepter to prolong or amplify his spells. He just had to bind this new power to his magic and then it would truly be his and his alone.

He smiled, while looking around and seeing only dead bodies, blood and shattered machineries, all the evidence of his undeniably superiority.

It had been a really good idea coming to this place when he had perceived that strange power.

He vanished the pearl, hiding it in the same place where he had vanished the Casket. Out of curiosity, he then began exploring the facility, entering in the smaller labs and in the dormitory. There wasn't anybody, but it was expected, since all the foolish mortals in the building seemed to have come running at the first sounds of the fight.

It was in the basement that he felt a presence. Walking silently, he reached a heavy door without bars, which only had a little window too small to allow someone to see what or who was being held inside.

He used a glimpse of his power to teleport inside of the cell and, for the first time since he had arrived at the facility, he allowed himself to show surprise.

There, seated motionlessly on the floor was Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update soon in this same week. Thank you for reading, please leave a comment.


	5. Chapter 4: Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the comments and the kudos! Seeing that you like this story always make me want to update as soon as I can.  
> I also want to give special thanks to Sara, my amazing beta, for her help and her patience.

**Chapter 4: Enemies**

 

_The boredom was his worst enemy._

_It didn't matter that the Avengers had defeated him, since he had already known it was one of the possible outcomes of the war he had chosen to be a part of. And it was an outcome he really didn't mind, because he had never wanted Thanos to win._

_He didn't even care about the lights that were always turned on or about the glass walls of his cell that let him see the hatred and the rage in the people's gazes when they passed nearby. Even Thor's presence didn't particularly bother him. He knew that the stupid oaf would have tried to talk to him, so, during his visits, he simply remained silent. The only words he spoke to Thor where cold orders to leave him alone or some well chosen offenses._

_But there wasn't anything in his annoying cage and the boredom was intolerable._

_He hadn't even had any verbal skirmish with one of his enemies. Once or twice he had seen Banner, and the beast hadn't even turned his head in his direction, walking silently and quickly towards the door in the opposite side of the room which contained his cage._

_Agent Romanov had watched him the day before, without speaking or showing any emotions. He had to recognize that she was similar to him, since they both were used to lies and to play with the truth for their goals, but now that she thought him defeated, she wasn't interesting enough to alleviate his bad mood. He had stared back with an equally blank expression, while deep inside his mind he had still been bored and annoyed. The woman was too controlled and too distant to be of any fun when he had to play the ungrateful role of a defeated enemy. He had made a comment about Hawkeye's absence, however, and the almost invisible hardening of her gaze had made him feel a little glimpse of satisfaction._

_Rogers had appeared twice and had been staying for just a few minutes. He was so disgustingly good and idealistic that it would have been an interesting challenge to try to corrupt him and to see how much time would it take to ruin is innocence and his heroic behavior. But now he didn't have enough time or the means to try this experiment._

_Fury too had come to him, trying to make him talk. He wanted information about Asgard, about his own powers, about the Chitauri, and he had tried to intimidate him with threats that had almost made him laugh. The Midgardians knew nothing about real pain and desperation._

_But the steps he could hear now didn't belong to any of these people. They were unfamiliar and it took a couple of seconds for him to associate them with a face._

“ _You are not stealthy enough to approach me from behind, Stark.” he said, a moment before turning to face him._

_The annoying mortal continued stepping forward, until he was next to his prison's wall. He had a glass half full of some amber liquid and he lifted it to show it to him._

“ _So nervous already? I'd offer you a drink, but the last time I did, you threw me out of the window, so...” He shrugged, assuming a false apologetic expression “Beside, I don't think Fury's henchmen would be happy if I opened this pretty glass box where you're locked up.”_

_Loki lifted his chained wrists hiding a grimace. Every time he felt the heavy chains that trapped his hands, he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or to scream in rage, because the chains were forged with old runes and forgotten spells; so powerful they would be a serious challenge even for him, but the fools that wanted him captured didn't know he didn't want to escape._

“ _Why are you here?”_

_Stark gulped down the entire content of the glass._

“ _I like watching you while you're in a cage. I find it relaxing.”_

_For that, Loki would kill him slowly. He just had to wait until he was in Asgard, then he would escape; he already had a plan. But, for now, he just had to bear with the irritating mortal, using the only weapon he had left._

“ _And you are lucky that I am trapped here, are you not?” he murmured, in a low, silken voice “Because you are utterly helpless in front of me. The only one among the Avengers who is truly weak. You do not have special powers, you have not received any specific training, even the woman of your little team of heroes is a lot more stronger and a lot more dangerous than you.” He opened his lips in a grin that showed his teeth “Without that suit of yours, you are nothing.”_

_Stark held his gaze for almost a minute, his expression tense and hard, before he shrugged and smiled back._

“ _At least I can scratch my back anytime I want. Sleep well on the floor, Reindeer Games.”_

 

_He hadn't slept. He had just spent the night meditating, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed and the chained hands on his knees. His body still hurt after the terrible beating inflicted by the green beast, but even without his magic, he could feel the broken bones healing slowly._

_When Stark came back, after some hours spent under Rogers' boring watch, he had a malicious smile on his face that Loki didn't like._

_Lifting his right hand, Stark showed him a strange metal contraption._

“ _I brought you a gift.”_

 

 

 

Loki just needed one instant to realize the mortal's condition. His hair was ruffled and dirty, his naked body was covered in bruises and whipping wounds, and Stark hadn't even opened his eyes. He just remained still, with the arms around his legs, and his apathy felt completely wrong, considering how irritating and noisy the mortal usually was . His chained wrists and collared neck were covered in old blood but he didn't seem gravely injured, at least from what Loki could see without a more thorough examination.

“Stark? This is truly a surprise.” he said, more to attract the mortal's attention than to express his surprise.

The Avenger suddenly opened his eyes. His gaze flickered in Loki's direction but after one second he lowered it on the floor, like he didn't even want to defend himself.

Loki grimaced. There was something very wrong with Stark's behavior: silence and immobility didn't suit the Man of Iron. In fact, this entire situation seemed unreal. And he didn't like the resignation he had caught in his gaze during the brief moment the mortal had stared at him.

If it was because of the pain or of the weariness, Loki didn't know, but it seemed Stark didn't want to react at all.

He lifted his hand, aiming at the mortal's head, with his magic already collected in a pale green light on his fingers.

“Will you not beg for your life?”

His words echoed in the dark prison without receiving any answers. Although Stark wasn't chained to the floor, he didn't try to move, nor to escape. He just remained motionless with his head bowed. And that made Loki hesitate.

Stark was an enemy and the fates had put him in his hands. He had a lot to punish him for: past offenses, fights, antagonism and all of what had happened in their whole months as enemies.

 

_His mouth was infested by the disgusting metal taste of the gag. The heavy chains reminded him of his defeat at every breath and he hated his enemies' satisfied expressions. He hated one of them in particular._

“ _You know, Loki, bondage suits you. Have you ever used chains in bed, when you were in Asgard?”_

_If eyes could kill, Stark would have died in that exact instant. He desired to kill him with such intensity that he almost felt his magic trying to break through the chains which sealed his power._

_The mortal seemed to understand what he was thinking, because he chuckled._

“ _With all the leather you wear, I'd be surprised if you hadn't.”_

 

He could kill him. It would be so easy that he already felt the spell on the tip of his fingers...

But now, it was Stark who was the one in chains. He even looked at the floor like a broken, submissive prisoner. And Loki was curious and annoyed at the same time about his strange behavior. He wanted to know how much pain the mortal was feeling to be so defeated. Besides, he liked the idea of keeping him as a prisoner for a while, like a testament of his triumph. It was alluring, the thought of saving him now and healing him just so he could destroy him with his own hands.

He grabbed one of Stark's arms and forced him to stand, with a rough movement that made him hiss through his serried lips.

“A kneeling Avenger is more satisfying than a dead one.” Loki murmured, next to the mortal's ear.

Then, in a green flash of light, he made them both disappear from the cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment.


	6. Chapter 5: Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so glad for the feedback of the last chapter that I managed to translate the new chapter sooner than I expected. So, here you are the new update, I hope you'll like it.  
> Thank you so much for all the comments and the kudos, I really appreciate them!  
> And special thanks as always go to Sara, my amazing beta. I'll never thank you enough for your help!

**Chapter 5: Memories**

 

_Tony wanted to die. Literally die because he wasn't sure he could go on living in this condition. Surely, death would be a mercy._

_Why had he decided it was a good idea to become a superhero?_

_His stomach hurt like it was trying to escape from his body through his throat. He was so nauseated, he couldn't think straight and Fury's too loud voice was making his hangover a real, sadistic torture. He felt like he was being hit directly in his brain with a hammer and he was sure that such vocal abuse before the dawn was forbidden by the Geneva Conventions._

_He had tried to ignore the spy's call but Jarvis hadn't let him because 'it's an important matter Sir, you should pick up the phone'._

_He groaned, trying not to puke in his suit._

_Again, why had he wanted to become a superhero?_

“ _Why did you make me get out of my home at five am?” he asked, interrupting one of Fury's diatribes “And spare me the usual BS you fob your agents off with. If you want my help, you'll have to tell me everything.”_

_He heard a curse, which immediately improved his mood._

“ _Loki was sighted in Central Park.”_

_Those words increased his soberness to fifty percent._

“ _You mean Thor's psychopathic adoptive brother? The one with the horned helm and leather clothes fetishism?”_

“ _Exactly.” Fury's voice was cold and threatening and the fact he hadn't even retorted to his ironical words showed how angry he was. Probably the spy was planning a terrible fate for the god, once Loki was in their hands._

_Tony didn't ask how the god had been able to escape from Asgard. Since Loki had asked for a drink, showing a perfectly collected and almost cheerful expression, although the Hulk had just used him to destroy part of his Tower, Tony had been sure the god had surrendered because he had wanted it, not because he had really felt defeated. Even if Tony hated him because of Phil's death and Loki's attempt at conquering the Earth, he couldn't deny that the god was a lot smarter and a lot more clever than others thought._

_A guy like him always had a backup plan._

_He almost smiled inside his helmet. At least, he now had someone to blame for his growing headache. Kicking Reindeer Games' bony ass would surely make his hangover better._

“ _When you engage him, keep him occupied and do not let him get close to the civilians.” Fury ordered “Romanov and Barton are arriving as soon as they can.”_

_This time, Tony smiled for real. He hadn't seen the two agents since the Chitauri's attack so it would be a nice reunion._

“ _Okay but they'll have to be quick.”_

_He switched frequency to receive another call without even saying goodbye to the spy._

“ _Leave some of him for us too.”_

_Tony recognized immediately this new voice._

“ _As you wish, Legolas.” he greeted the archer “Maybe, if you'll get there in time, you'll manage to give Fury an eyepatch-friend.”_

“ _Be careful.” Natasha's severe voice admonished him, covering Clint's fierce approval for Tony's words._

“ _Don't worry, just arrive as soon as possible.”_

_By the time Tony reached the park, it was dawn. He stopped in midair, astonished. Beneath him, there was a slim layer of ice which covered the ground and formed at its edges four transparent walls. And in the center of this sort of ice-made cage was Loki._

_Tony landed behind his back, still staring at the strange construction with wide eyes. If he had to trust Jarvis – and Jarvis was never wrong, since it was his creation – the temperature around him was way below thirty two degrees*._

“ _You know, when people are hot they just buy a fan or an ice-cream. They don't change Central Park into a fucking igloo.”_

_Loki turned to face him and it was then that the Avenger noticed his condition: the clothes under the golden armor were torn and covered in blood. The god didn't have his usual helmet and his black hair was bloodied and unkempt. His pale face showed two open gashes, one on his forehead and one on his cheek. There were dark circles under his eyes but his gaze was bright and lucid and for a moment, Tony though he could see a crimson glow in the god's green irises._

“ _Stark.”_

_The Avenger stepped forward, showing an ease he really didn't feel while he readied himself to shoot the god at the first sign of any threat. He wasn't completely sober and his enemy was a psychopathic alien with godlike powers and a lot of unresolved family issues, so he was going to be cautious. This time, he wouldn't go for attack first and think later, as he was used to do._

“ _Long time no see, Reindeer Games. You seem quite battered. Daddy's spanking was worse than you thought?”_

_So much for being cautious._

_Against all his expectations, Loki began laughing._

“ _Not at all. Actually, I have never been better.” The laughter died in a toothy grin “Leaving Asgard behind was really liberating.”_

“ _Speaking of Asgard, why aren't you still there? Shouldn't you be hanging from a rope or staying behind bars or be on Thor's leash?”_

_A glimpse of rage flashed in the god's gaze but the grin didn't falter._

“ _The All-Father thought he could restrain me without killing me. He thought that a cell and the chains could keep me captive. Even with all of his wisdom, he still was a fool.”_

_Tony didn't like it. Thor had always talked about his father with respect and admiration, describing him as an almighty infallible old king. And okay, it was obvious that Thor was biased but still it was worrying that even the gods' powerful king hadn't been able to contain his rebel son. Oh right, his rebel, adoptive and batshit crazy son._

“ _I thought the people in Asgard had some chains which would be able to seal your powers.” he told Loki, without showing his preoccupied thoughts._

_The god laughed again._

“ _Yes, they thought so too.”_

_While he was speaking, blood began trickling down his mouth, staining his chin, and he absentmindedly licked it away._

_And Tony couldn't avert his gaze._

Punctured lungs or damage to some internal organs _, the rational part of his mind realized. The less rational and less sober part of him thought that Loki could have a bright future in the gay porn industry._

_Tony shook his head to sober up, then he aimed at the god with all of the most visible weapons of his suit, as he had done in Stuttgart. Even if his enemy seemed to have trouble standing without faltering under the weight of his armor, Tony wasn't so foolish to believe him helpless. He might be already hurt but Loki was a god whose powers hadn't been completely revealed yet, as the strange ice cage around them demonstrated._

“ _So, are you coming without complaining or should I use the hard way?” he asked the god “You know, at home I've got a commemorative duplicate of your gag.”_

_Loki's gaze hardened showing a dark, cold rage._

“ _Do not think I have forgotten, Stark.” the god hissed before conjuring a weapon similar to both a scepter and a lance “I never forget.”_

_Since Tony didn't want to let him make the first move, he quickly used his right hand to shot him but Loki was faster. He vanished in a flash of green and gold light, then he reappeared behind Tony's back and hit him in his head with the scepter. Luckily for the Avenger, the helmet creaked but held up so he could fly away to put some distance between them._

_Even if his enemy was more a magician than a warrior, he had to remember that the god's strength was not to be underestimated. Cap would agree with him, considering what had happened in Stuttgart._

_He managed to avoid Loki's attack twice but he still hadn't found an opening to counter him._

“ _You will kneel at my feet, mortal.” the god snarled with a voice between a threat and a promise._

“ _Sorry but I never kneel before the third date. Or at least before dinner.” Tony replied, smiling even if he was finding it difficult to handle both the fight and the hangover “You know, I'm an old school kind of guy.”_

_This time Loki's green energy hit him fully in the chest, sending him crashing against the ice wall, shattering it._

“ _Quite a susceptible god, we have.” Tony murmured, getting up again to just narrowly avoid two other green attacks. He was already sore but the hit had managed to sober him up a little. He lifted both his hands, aiming at Loki's head “Let's see how you like this.”_

_And the fight could truly begin._

 

 

 

He remembered everything about his second fight against Loki. The first time he had faced him personally. It was almost an year ago.

And now, he was confused because the god hadn't killed him yet and was simply staring at him in an unnerving silence.

He refused to scream when Loki made him stand roughly but the pain exploded in all of his body and for a moment, he saw black spots in front of his eyes.

Next thing he saw while he was still wondering what the god's intentions were, was a green, blinding light.

 

 

 

*little note: the temperature here is measured in Fahrenheit degrees. If it were in Celsius degrees, it would be 'way below the zero'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter was a flashback for the most part of it. I hope it didn't disappoint you. Next chapter will have a much longer part about Loki and Tony in the present. So, see you in a few days with the next update, "Chapter 6: On his knees".  
> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment.


	7. Chapter 6: On his knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for having update so late. This chapter is a little longer than usual and more complicated than the previous ones, so I had a hard time translating it. Thank you so much for the comments and the kudos, you really make me want to update more often! And special thanks go to Sara and her precious help as my beta, thank you very much!

**Chapter 6: On his knees**

_Judging on the intensity of the spell that had hit him, the god hadn't found his joke about the kneeling thing amusing._

_Tony stood again, breathing with effort now that the fight was beginning to tire him out. And after a few minutes of dealing with a wounded but very angry god, even with his suit on, he was covered in bruises._

_When Loki attacked him again, Tony managed to avoid both the scepter and the magic while he was charging the shot which he hoped would end the fight. He was hit in the stomach with a swing of the scepter but at the same time he shot the god, hitting him fully in the chest. Then he shot Loki a missile, just to be sure that he would stay down and he stumbled, exhausted, trying to catch his breath._

_He wasn't really wounded but he hurt everywhere, thanks to Loki's crazy attacks._

_He looked at the god. He was so sure his enemy would be at least unconscious, that he almost jumped when he realized he had been so fucking wrong. Loki was on his knees, panting. Under him, there was a puddle of his own blood. But he was still alive, still awake._

_And somehow, that sight was more worrying than seeing the god at full health._

“ _Wasn't I the one who should have knelt, Reindeer Games?” Tony heard himself saying before he could think._

_With a scream of pure rage, the god stood up and struck him in the blink of an eye._

_Tony's curses got lost in the battle's noises while he again tried not to be pierced by the scepter and to evade Loki's spells._

_He didn't know how it was possible that a person so wounded could still attack him with such fierceness. But Loki was fighting like a cornered beast, he used magic and spells without pausing and even bloodied and paler than usual, he still had the upper hand in the battle._

_After some nasty hits, Tony managed to kick him thanks to Jarvis' indication but one instant later the god was attacking him again._

_The Avenger had to admit it: threatening the god before Nat and Clint arrived hadn't been one of his smartest ideas._

_A green blast of energy sent him smashing into a tree. When he managed to stand up, he was almost puking because of the pain – not because of the alcohol, the alcohol was good, in fact it wonderfully muffled the pain._

_Jarvis informed him that his suit was too damaged to fly again and that the energy was dropping quickly._

_Next thing Tony knew, he was lifted up from the ground while angry green eyes stared at him. As soon as he realized that Loki had lifted him with one hand – him and the suit, and how was that possible? – grabbing his neck, he couldn't find words anymore._

_With a shiver, now he knew that Loki had just been fooling around during the invasion with the Chitauri. The god had never fought seriously. Not like this, like he was fighting for his life, like he was ready to destroy the entire city if he happened to go down._

_And Tony had never seen him so furious. Now, Loki seemed like a cornered, dangerous animal and it was clear that he would find a way to escape and to remain free even if he had to conquer his freedom upon the bodies of his enemies, killing everyone who dared to hinder him._

_Someone like Tony, for example._

“ _Legolas, where are you?” the Avenger asked as soon as Jarvis opened the communication, while he could feel the grip on the neck's suit tightening “I have a very angry god who's trying to throttle me right now. Some help would be appreciated.”_

“ _We'll be here in a few minutes. Try to stay alive.”_

_A vicious stab on his left shoulder made him realize that Loki had managed to destroy the hidden weapon with which Tony was going to shot at him._

“ _Easier said than done.” he grumbled._

_He tried to free himself from the god's grasp but Loki seemed to have fingers made of iron, his grip was too strong and the suit was caving in._

_Tony paled when he realized that maybe the god would kill him this way. He knew he wasn't a coward. When he went through the portal, he had been sure he would have died. But he wasn't able to face Loki without even a glimpse of fear because now his enemy truly seemed like a god. An enraged, unstoppable, terrifying god._

_And, in front of him, Tony was only a human._

“ _Are you now aware of your helplessness, mortal?” Loki hissed, like he was able to read his mind “Have you realized how foolish you were when you decided to defy a god?”_

_Tony's eyes shifted from his enemy's eyes to the red trace on his chin._

“ _Didn't think gods could bleed.”_

_Even if he expected it, Tony didn't really see the attack. He just muffled a scream when a dart of magic passed through the already damaged suit and pierced his shoulder. He concentrated on breathing, waiting for the pain to become bearable and he couldn't move when Loki lifted his fingers and with frightening ease, tore off the frontal part of the helmet._

_Tony really hoped Loki would kill him quickly because now he knew the sorcerer could tear him to pieces with his bare hands, if he wanted._

_With both of his hands, he grabbed the god's wrist, trying in vain to force him to let go. He felt terribly helpless without the helmet to shield himself from his gaze. Even with the exhausted, pale face, the wheeze and the wounds, Loki was terrifying. Tony had never been so scared and so conscious of how unequal the fight had been, maybe because the god was still standing after being hit with a fucking missile, after bleeding so profusely, after having already been exhausted and wounded before the fight had started. Loki was still standing, making Tony realize that during the old battles, the god had just played with them._

_So, that was a god's true power._

_Still struggling in vain to free himself, the Avenger saw a red glimpse in his enemy's eyes. He froze, wondering if that red shade was something related to the adoption thing or if it was instead the concrete testament of Loki's rage. Then, his survival instinct kicked in and erased any other thoughts._

_He tried to collect the residual energy in his thrusters but the suit was too damaged and he could only struggle helplessly against the god's grip._

_The sky above them was still clear. Natasha and Clint were arriving but it would be too late for him. Tony knew it and Loki knew it too._

“ _Will you beg for your life, Tony Stark?”_

_The Avenger shook his head, trying an ironic smile to hide his fear._

“ _I'm sorry, but it's not my styl...” he began saying but the hold on his throat tightened until he was struggling to breathe._

_The god grinned and for a moment, Tony was sure that his threatening expression was going to be the last thing he saw._

_Then Loki pulled him closer._

“ _Consider yourself lucky that I will let you live” he whispered “And prepare yourself to beg for my mercy because soon you will kneel at my feet.”_

_Before Tony could form a reply, the grip on his neck disappeared._

_Loki had vanished._

 

 

He felt like he was escaping from his own body. Like he was just in his mind, which was being projected at an absurd speed in another reality. His only perception was the dark. He was surrounded by it, he could touch it, taste it, see it, hear it. Then, he felt his own stomach trying to rebel while his blood seemed to flow backwards and his lungs were so constricted he couldn't breathe.

He staggered when he again felt something solid under his feet but even if his legs gave up, Loki was still holding his arm, so Tony didn't fall down. He trembled, trying to regain his balance and not to puke on the floor.

All around him, it was hazy and confusing and the god at his side was the only stable, firm presence in a place where everything seemed to keep spinning.

When he could finally breathe again and the sickness slowly disappeared, he realized he was in an unfamiliar living room of an unknown house. _Still alive_.

He blinked and finally he could focus on his surroundings, while his eyes became accustomed to the daylight again. It wasn't an illusion, he really was in a large, neat living room which differed greatly from his dark prison.

He had been so sure he would have died in that cell, like a forgotten, unwanted parody of a hero. He would have died and the other Avengers wouldn't have even known it. He had been ready for the end, he hadn't wanted to fight because he didn't mind death. At least not now, when he wasn't a hero anymore. _And still, he was inexplicably alive_.

His surprise made him lift his gaze to meet the god's eyes. He opened his mouth as to talk and to express his confusion but he closed it immediately after without saying anything.

While he was still trying to find a meaning for his situation, the strong hold on his arm disappeared and Loki moved to be in front of him. He seemed taller and more imposing than he had ever been, maybe because he was wearing his full armor while Tony was naked and unarmed.

It was the first time the Avenger didn't have the impulse to crack a joke about the god's horned helm.

 _Once_ , he could afford the irony, the arrogance, the satisfaction of being part of the good guys, of the heroes. _Once_ , he was one of the brave warriors who protected normal people and fought for justice. _Once_ , Iron Man still existed. But now he was just Stark and he wasn't sure if his presence could be useful for the world.

He let Loki study him without moving, waiting for the verdict to what would happen to him. The god's green eyes stared at his naked chest, where the Arc Reactor was. Then they went lower, slowly, like they wanted to see even the smallest detail of Tony's body. When they returned staring at his face, Loki was grinning.

“Please, tell me that your captors had been the ones who disrobed you and that this is not how you are inside your armor.” he commented with the same mockery he had used in their past fights.

Tony tensed slightly under the god's amused gaze, feeling the humiliation of being shackled and naked in front of his enemy. The chain that bound his wrists to the collar on his neck was too short to allow him to reach his groin with his hands, so he didn't even try to move to cover himself. But even this humiliation wasn't strong enough to overcome his apathy and he simply continued staring at the floor. He had been naked since the day he was captured, when the terrorists had tore off something more than mere clothes from him, taking him away from Iron Man, the only heroic part of his life. Now, the nakedness didn't really bother him anymore.

He more sensed than saw Loki looking at him with a strange expression. Then the god's face hardened and he grabbed Tony's chain.

“On your knees, mortal.” Loki snarled, yanking the chain roughly towards the floor.

Tony fell on his knees and the impact with the floor made him press his lips together to choke a whimper. He remained in this position even when the god let the chain go, feeling helpless and uncertain, while Loki continued staring at him.

The god had kept his promise.


	8. Chapter 7: Too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments! I'm really glad you're enjoying my story. And of course, my special thanks go to my amazing beta Sara, who has done a wonderful job of correcting this chapter.

**Chapter 7: Too late**

 

“It seems we're too late.” Clint said.

They had just rushed in the facility where the Hydra prisoner had told them Tony Stark was being held but there was no one there. No one alive, to be precise.

Behind him, Clint felt Cap's breathing suddenly stop while Bruce was already breathing in that calm and regular rhythm he used when he was trying to control his anger. Natasha, with her two guns already in her hands was advancing silently through the bodies, without showing any emotions.

Clint began doing the same thing in the opposite position, looking around and being ready to act against any unexpected movements.

“If this is Tony's doing, remind me to never make him angry again.” he commented while he tightened his grip on the bow.

General random massacres were nothing new for him but there was something very wrong in this scene. All the bodies belonged to Hydra soldiers or scientists and nobody had been shot. All the wounds seemed caused by some sort of knife or sword. The machineries had been destroyed, the floor was cracked like the Hulk had jumped on it a couple of times and in the center of this destruction there was a body trapped in a block of ice.

As soon as he shifted his gaze to the dead man, he understood why Steve had stopped breathing just a few minutes before: even if Clint had seen the man's face in just some old reports and in the video feed that Tony had transmitted them a month ago, he recognized him as Red Skull. Hydra's real and only head.

And one of Red Skull's arms was missing.

Clint's eyes moved to the mutilated shoulder. Where the arm had been cut, he could see the muscles and the veins still frozen. The ice was so cold that there wasn't a single drop of blood on the floor. Almost fascinated by the sight and curious to feel it, he touched the ice. Immediately, he had to withdraw his hand with a gasp to avoid a nasty frost bite because the glassy surface was much colder than he expected.

“Clint.”

Natasha was at his side in the blink of an eye. He hinted a smile, both to reassure her and to apologize.

“I've never touched anything so cold.” he said, massaging his fingers “If I hadn't pulled my hand away, I think it would have frozen.”

“It's strange.” Bruce commented while he was coming closer “It's quite hot, in here but the ice isn't melting.”

He examined the block of ice, then he stared at the mutilated arm.

“And the cut is strange too.”

“What do you mean?”

“The cut's clear, like it's been done effortlessly even if the ice is very hard. And I doubt that a blade that sharp or a man that strong exists.” After one last glance, Bruce stepped back “If I had to guess, I'd say it was done with a laser. But the wound doesn't seem cauterized, so I really don't know.”

The laser thing was an extremely reassuring hypothesis.

“Do you think that Tony built a new weapon?” Steve asked, voicing Clint's exact thoughts.

They all knew the story about Iron Man's birth and it didn't seem impossible that Tony had been able to escape twice from his captors.

Before Bruce could answer, some heavy steps behind their backs made them turn around, ready to fight. But instead of the enemies they expected, they found Thor.

“It was not the Man of Iron” The god said, in a sad, tired voice “It was my brother”

 

 

Even after the god had let the chain go, Tony was still in his kneeling position, with his head bowed, shoulders bent in defeat, his eyes aimed at Loki's feet.

So that was the reason the god still hadn't killed him.

He should have known that Loki wanted his humiliation before the information about the Avengers. Actually, the god had said he would have made him kneel that day months ago.

Distantly, he wondered if Loki was finding the image of his enemy kneeling at his feet pleasurable. If the god found it _exciting_. Probably yes, an Avenger's defeat would have made him feel powerful. But Tony didn't have a reason to rebel so he didn't move and soon enough these thoughts expired in his apathy.

“So, you have finally understood your place.” The god said but his emotionless voice somehow contradicted his satisfied words.

Tony heard a rustle when Loki bent down over him. A second later, he felt a rough grip on his chin and he was forced to meet the god's eyes.

“Are you not answering?”

When the Avenger remained silent, Loki narrowed his eyes. He gripped his chin tighter, forcing him to open his mouth.

“They did not cut your tongue,” he murmured to himself before letting him go and straightening his body.

Then, he began circling him, like a wild beast would do with his prey and Tony had to fight against his instincts to remain still. Even through his apathy, the Avenger felt deep inside his body that it was utterly wrong to be in such a vulnerable position while his enemy was standing behind his back.

When Loki lightly touched one of the wounds that were on his shoulders, Tony tensed. It was painful and he didn't expect it but as he was preparing for the worst, the god lifted his fingers without pressing down onto the whipping mark.

“It seems you have enjoyed the hospitality of those mortals for quite a long time.” Loki commented. He was still behind Tony's back but closer than the Avenger would have thought “What were your companions doing? Were they so inept that they could not find their precious ally?” The god came closer until Tony shivered lightly, feeling him breathing on his nape “Or did they consider you expendable? Did they not want to save you?”

_To save me?_

Tony tensed immediately. Then, he had to fight the impulse to laugh until his throat hurt and he couldn't breathe anymore because he had spent whole nights hoping that no one came to save him. He didn't want the Avengers to find him, he didn't want to meet their eyes and to see in them the rage, the disgust, the derision he knew he deserved.

In a blink of an eye, Loki was in front of him.

“You still remain silent?” The god grabbed him by the hair, making him stand again “With all your words, you do not have anything to say?”

His voice contained a barely suppressed anger and Tony looked at the floor without reacting, hiding his gaze. He didn't want to fight anymore, he was already defeated, dead inside. W _hy wasn't Loki killing him yet?_

Like he was able to read his thoughts, the god relaxed and released his hair.

“Has a little pain been enough to break you, Stark?” he asked Tony but his voice wasn't an angry and venomous hiss anymore. It was soft, low, like he was speaking to himself.

_The pain?_

A sudden flashback invaded Tony's mind: a blue light, the screams, a shoot. And before that, his own arrogant, self-confident voice.

_And finally, there had just been the horror._

It hadn't been the pain that had broken him.

While he was still remembering what he desperately wanted to forget, he almost missed the small, elegant movement of Loki's fingers, which made the chain and the collar disappear.

Incredulous, Tony lifted his gaze to meet the god's eyes. He was free. For the first time in what seemed like years, he didn't have the heavy chain around his wrists or the collar on his neck. He extended his arms with a relieved sigh, to alleviate the cramps after being tied for so long. Then, he rubbed his excoriated wrists without caring of the caked blood.

He was so busy enjoying his new found freedom that he gasped in pain and surprise when the god suddenly grabbed his hair again.

“If you do something I do not like, these will come back. And they will be much heavier.” Loki threatened him, nodding at Tony's free wrists and neck “Do I make myself clear?”

When the hold on his hair became more painful, forcing him to clench his jaw to choke a moan, Tony nodded. The god loosened his hold without letting him go and for a moment his gaze lingered on the Avenger's hands, which hadn't even moved to defend himself.

When Loki lifted his gaze again, Tony saw a glimpse of irritation in his green eyes.

Suddenly, the god shoved him away roughly, making him stumble.

“Now, go take a shower. I have no intention of having you in my house in this condition.” he ordered, coldly.

Then, in a green flash, he was gone and Tony was alone.


	9. Chapter 8: In his hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the feedbacks, you're too kind! Special thanks go to Sara, my amazing beta, for the edited chapter.

**Chapter 8: In his hands**

 

Feeling the warm water on his battered skin was a wonderful sensation. He was burning, the wounds hurt but he didn't care. What mattered now was that he could clean himself and wash away all the filth and the dried blood that covered his body.

With the noises of the shower silencing his thoughts, it allowed him to think about nothing. To be no one.

After a few minutes, the pain became more bearable and he scrubbed his chafed wrists until they bled again. But it was good to be clean again and to be free from the chains.

Finally, when every inch of his body was clean and reddened from the scrubbing, he closed his eyes and remained under the warm water, feeling more relaxed than he had been since the day of his capture. Soon, he would have to face Loki again. He still didn't know why the god hadn't killed him yet – and he was sure he wouldn't like his reason. But for now, he wanted to enjoy this moment of peace without thinking and to let the warm water soothe his wounds.

He didn't know how much time he spent in the shower before deciding to turn the water off. He took a nearby towel to dry himself and when he felt he was no longer wet, he laced it around his hips, basking in the sensation of having something to cover at least a part of his body. The towel was soft and comforting and it surprised him how good something he had always taken for granted felt.

He wanted to remain in the bathroom forever but he was hungry and he still didn't know what Loki wanted to do with him.

With a sigh, he walked out of the bathroom, returning to the living room. He was barefoot but the floor was clean and warmer than the cold prison where he had been living in the past month.

He looked around and held his breath but there wasn't anyone nearby. The house seemed deserted.

Like the bathroom and the floor, this room was perfectly neat and clean. But it was also too empty to appear truly hospitable: there were just a black leather couch, a coordinated armchair with a green cushion on it, a small table, a cupboard and a bookcase with plenty of old books. That was all. No ornaments, no mirrors, no paintings hanging from the wall, no television.

Again, he searched for the familiar shape of the god but he found no one. He felt uneasy, even if now he had something to cover himself with. But before, while he was kneeling at Loki's feet, he was sure the god would have killed him. Now that he was free and alone, he didn't understand Loki's intention and everything felt utterly wrong. A captive shouldn't be able to walk around freely with no one to guard him. After the routine of the last few weeks, the lack of restrictions and this new-found freedom was confusing him.

He went closer to one of the windows, following his instincts since he rationally wasn't looking for a way to escape from the house. Out of curiosity, he looked outside to see if he could recognize the place where he was being held but as soon as he saw his surroundings, he took a step back, astonished. He had seen the light blue sky and the sun, so bright his eyes hurt after a month in the darkness. But there wasn't anything else, just a bottomless waterfall and a bright abyss where nothing apart from the water existed instead of the solid ground.

He immediately tried to open the window even if he was sure it was sealed; but to his utter surprise, nothing stopped him. As soon as he opened it, he felt a light breeze on his face and he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation he had almost forgotten while he was being held in that dark, windowless cell.

_Good. He didn't deserve it but it felt good._

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes again, trying to understand what he was seeing. He lacked the conviction to flee but the most natural thing to do was to test this apparent way out.

He cautiously extended his left arm out of the window, like he expected to be fulminated or burnt by whatever defense Loki had created for his home. Instead, he met an invisible barrier half way. It wasn't painful, it was just something impenetrable that didn't bulge an inch when he tried to move it.

Tony lowered his arm and stared again at the waterfall. If not for the terrestrial furniture, he would have believed he was on Asgard.

But Loki was a powerful sorcerer and knew how to create amazingly realistic illusions.

Suddenly, Tony ran to another window in the opposite side of the house, than to another, ignoring his aching body until he realized that the house seemed surrounded by waterfalls with no ground to see. Above it, there was just a limitless sky.

It seemed like the house had been built on the water and it was about to fall into the abyss.

An illusive spell, then.

He was probably still on Earth.

Not that this made a difference: he didn't have his suit, he was unarmed against an enemy who had proved himself stronger than the full powered Iron Man.

And he wasn't Iron Man anymore. He wasn't sure he wanted to fight the god or to try to escape from him.

He began exploring the house to silence these thoughts.

Apart from the living room and the bathroom, there were three other rooms. One was the kitchen and it was the first room he went in. He wasn't surprised to find it as clean as the rest of the place but it was so small, normal and terrestrial that it seemed absurd to associate it with Loki.

His empty stomach made him looking for something to eat but the fridge was empty as well and in the cupboard and in the drawers there were just pans, cutlery, seemingly untouched glasses and napkins. So, maybe Loki didn't need food like Thor did or he just used his magic to make it appear. Certainly, it was easier to think about Loki conjuring some food than Loki buying it in a shop like he was a normal person.

He exited the kitchen, ignoring the knives in one of the drawers. He still had two room to explore. He tried the closest one, but the door was locked and even with a well aimed kick it didn't break. Instead, a searing pain blossomed in his battered body because of the kick so he didn't try to smash the door a second time.

For a few moments, he stared at the closed door without moving. His old self would try to pick the lock, to find something to smash the door, to act, instead of remaining still because if Loki didn't want him to enter in this room it meant that there was something important or dangerous inside, or probably both. But now he was too tired to be curious and too defeated to find the strength to fight again.

He turned his back to the door and went to see if he was allowed in the last room.

Apparently he was since the last door was unlocked. He entered in what seemed like a perfectly normal bedroom: a closet, a desk, another little bookcase next to a tiny bedside table and a large bed with a black quilt. He tensed, even if there was no one in sight. This was Loki's bedroom and Tony wasn't sure the god would appreciate his presence in there.

However, the closet was an irresistible temptation. He gingerly opened it, looking for some clothes but, like the fridge, it was completely empty.

With a sigh, Tony returned to the living room. Now it was left only the front door.

Before trying it, he tested every window in the house, always finding the same invisible barrier and the same absurd waterfall and bright bottomless abyss.

Only then he reached for the front door, knowing he had just been stalling.

He had told himself he wanted to preserve his last hope for as long as he could but the truth was he was scared: what if he found a way to escape just to realize he didn't care and preferred remaining Loki's captive? What if he was so broken he couldn't stand the possibility of being free?

But it would be much worse to not even try.

Holding his breath, he reached for the doorknob. A little push, and the door opened.

Tony blinked. In front of his surprised eyes, there was the identical living room he was in. He passed the door and it was just like escaping from a house to step into its solid, three-dimensional reflection. He went back and forth a couple of times but the house he was trying to leave was always in front of him and at the same time behind his back.

He felt a light impulse to hint a smile because he should have known that Loki was too creative to trap him with just a barrier. But the smile died somewhere inside his mind before even reaching his lips.

He closed the door, feeling his chest oppressed by the familiar too heavy pain that always affected him when he had nothing to do and plenty of time to think.

_And he didn't want to think. Please, please don't think._

He almost didn't realize his steps had taken him back to the kitchen.

He remembered there were some knives in the top left drawer and before he could think, he grabbed the sharpest and the biggest one.

He hadn't had Natasha's or Clint's training which made them capable of killing with basically every object but he knew he could be dangerous with such a knife. He thoughtfully tested the blade with his thumb, then he realized what was doing and felt the sudden urge to laugh. A kitchen knife against a god.

He really began laughing, a violent, rough sound that scared him but he couldn't stop. Maybe a less egocentric man would have used the knife against himself, to atone for his faults. But his first and only though had been to use the knife against Loki. He was truly pathetic.

The laughter became bitter, sharper and more painful. His lungs hurt, his stomach protested against this strain of this hysterical hilarity but he continue laughing until he ran out of breath, until he almost broke into tears.

His trembling hand passed on his forehead while his laughter died in a sob.

He desperately needed a drink.

He put the knife back in its drawer and exited the kitchen, staggering from an exhaustion which wasn't only physical. He didn't have anything to do and his weakened body had reached its limit. After a rapid glance in the empty bedroom, where he almost expected to see a smirking Loki mocking him, he reached the living room again.

Still basking in the pleasurable and almost forgotten sensation of the towel on his naked skin, he sat down on the couch and waited for the god's return.

 

 

They had felt it. They had felt the raw power, the familiar blue energy belonging to their Master's new slave.

And then, they had felt _him_.

A green, bright fury which had annihilated their latest ally. But it didn't matter because now they knew for sure in which Realm the traitorous god was hiding.

The Other laughed into the void, followed by his companions.

_We are coming, little god. We are coming for you and there will be no death to save your pitiful soul. Prepare yourself to beg because you will not be able to do anything else before you will begin screaming._


	10. Chapter 9: Broken laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for your comments and the feedbacks, I'm glad you are enjoying my story. Special thanks go to Sara who always helps me and corrects my chapters.  
> I hope this update won't disappoint you.
> 
>  **Warning:** References to torture.

**Chapter 9: Broken laughter**

 

_He had fallen._

_For hours – days, months, years._

_Without an end, without any life._

_He had gone through such horrors that any other being would have been annihilated. Horrors capable of feasting on his rationality, bloody bite after bloody bite because not even an immortal god could pass through that dark, silent void unscathed. And it had been so cold that even the Jotun monster hidden beneath his_ _Æsir_ _skin had shivered._

_Then, he had landed. Hard. His bones were shattered, his skin was broken and bloody. But it was his mind the most damaged part of him and was still trying to put itself together from scraps. Wounded and exhausted from keeping his mind during the fall, he hadn't been able to stand while unfamiliar beasts were gathering around him._

_The darkness was clouding his mind more than his eyes and it had taken a few minutes to focus on them. Then, he had recognized them: they were Chitauri, the monsters who had been banished by all the Nine Realms and had been forgotten, he had read about in the Asgard's library._

_And as soon as he had realized that, the torture had begun._

_It was merciless. Sometimes the Chitauri tortured him until he wasn't there with his mind anymore, sometimes they stopped just to let him regain his lucidity. Sometimes they let him heal most of the wounds before they began breaking his bones, burning him, tearing off his flesh again. Then, their leader had come, a being who called himself The Other. He had spoken to Loki about Midgard, about the Tesseract, about his own mission to serve an immortal master who was in love with Death._

_The Other had never touched him but Loki hated him more than his direct tormentors._

_And one day, still laying in the dark, on that cold ground, he had promised himself that The Other would have been the first one to perish by his hands._

_He didn't know how much time had passed since his landing when he finally heard heavy steps approaching him. It could have been just days or thousands of years and he was still trying to stitch together his torn mind._

_Through the dizziness and the pain, he saw this new tormentor, perceiving a power so strong he almost couldn't breathe. He didn't need to see his face to know who he was._

_In front of him was Thanos._

_He stared at the Titan without even feeling the pain, meeting the eyes of one of the fewest beings that even the All-Father feared._

_Then, Thanos smiled._

“ _You are very far from home, little god.”_

_But Loki didn't have a home anymore. Odin had stolen it from him with his last refusal, his 'no, Loki' was still burning in the god's mind and it probably would never stop hurting him._

_(Fatherless runt, unwanted son, monster, Jotun)_

“ _How are you thinking of saving your life?” the Titan asked with an amused expression._

_And Loki understood everything in the blink of an eye._

“ _You need me.” he murmured, with a sort of surprise because he hadn't realized it earlier._

_It was so clear, now. The Chitauri weren't trying to destroy him. They were just hurting him, trying to tame him and to make him easier to control. And Loki could already feel his wounds healing, the pain was just a reminder that he was still alive and he still had his power. It was still weakened from the fall into the void, but he felt it, it was slowly regenerating itself and soon it would flow again into his veins with the intensity that belonged only to the best sorcerer among the Nine Realms._

“ _Do not make the mistake of believing you are allowed to bargain with me.” Thanos replied, in a hiss which was ice and fire at the same time and carried unknown horrors and threats. But he hadn't denied Loki's words._

_When the Titan turned his back on him and disappeared in the darkness, someone laughed. And Loki shivered when he realized that that manic, broken laughter belonged to him. The Chitauri around him stared at him like he had become crazy but it didn't matter. What mattered was the fact that the only one who recognized his worth, who needed him and his power, while his fake family hadn't, had been Thanos. Thanos and the Chitauri._

_Among other monsters, he had finally found where he belonged._

Not like a stolen relic which laid forgotten in Thor's shadow, All-Father, but a weapon in the hands of Asgard's most dangerous enemy.

_And then, Loki laughed until he tasted blood in his mouth, until his throat became a burning knot of pain and his lungs hurt more than his broken ribs. Even when his strength vanished, leaving him as a broken, motionless body on the ground, he was still laughing._

_After that, no one touched him anymore._

_The Chitauri let him lie breathless in his own misery, believing him to have become crazy. But Loki's mind was more lucid than it had ever been since when he had let go on the abyss and even when the exhaustion took over, he didn't stop thinking._

_He had a plan, now. An aim. A way to escape from the darkness that had entered in his bones. And he was ready to shape the fate of two Realms with his own hands._

_When he regained consciousness, Thanos was bent over him._

“ _Little god, are you ready to serve me?” the Titan asked, with a voice which was able to tear at his mind, like it had claws capable of piercing his head and his flesh._

_Loki opened his eyes and met Thanos' gaze without hesitation._

“ _You give me an army.” he murmured, his voice too hoarse to be recognized as his own “And I shall give you the Tesseract.”_

 

 

Loki appeared in the living room after a couple of minutes.

He didn't wear his armor, nor did he have his scepter. The only things in his hands were a bunch of Stark's clothes, which had been taken directly from one of the billionaire's houses. He was hidden by an invisibility spell because he wanted to see how his prisoner would be while he thought he was alone.

Like a silent shadow, Loki waited for Stark to finish his shower. Then, he followed the mortal in his exploration of the house, looking for a glimpse of his old, arrogant enemy.

He was disappointed soon.

It took a few minutes for him to realize that the Avenger wasn't faking his apathetic behavior: Stark was broken, a useless, pathetic shadow of his former self. He seemed like he couldn't even keep his gaze from the floor, he moved without a real aim, like he was hunted by something or someone and he thought he would be killed if he stopped even for one second.

Even when he controlled all the windows and the front door, Stark didn't really try to find a way to escape. He was emotionless, like a man already resigned to die. And when he tried in vain to exit the house and understood that the spell prevented him to do so, on his face appeared an emotion suspiciously similar to relief.

Loki continued following him to the bedroom without revealing himself. He looked at him with approval when Stark tried to smash the door of his study. However, the mortal desisted too soon for his liking.

Then, the Avenger went to the kitchen, where he grabbed a knife. Loki smiled at the idea of a mortal going against him with such laughable weapon and felt a rush of anticipation.

_Yes, Stark. Fight me, show me your foolish arrogance so that I shall destroy it myself._

However, the man began laughing and his laughter made Loki clench his teeth because it was a too familiar sound.

He had to restrain himself to not grab his prisoner by the throat to end his life. He could feel his fingers itching to suffocate that broken, desperate sound in the most definitive way possible. Because it was too familiar, a too painful reminder of himself in the void and in Thanos' grasp.

Then, the mortal regained control, shivering like he had been teleported right to the frozen land of Jotunheim and put the knife back in the drawer. He went to the living room and sat on the couch, probably too tired to do something else. There, he fell asleep in a couple of minutes, curled on the edge of couch, with the towel as his only clothes.

Loki took notice of the bruises, the whipping marks on his back and the little circular burns. He would have been proud and satisfied of this testament of pain on his enemy's skin but he hadn't been the one who had done it to Stark and the thought just annoyed him more.

Still, the Avenger wasn't gravely wounded: his breathing was low and regular, his temperature was normal for his Midgardian standard and he didn't have horrible scars or marks or broken bones which would have hinted to some kind of blood-curling torture.

It was clear he had suffered but a little pain shouldn't have been enough to tame Stark's arrogance and to make him lose his will of fight. Loki remembered too well how Stark had kept fighting and mocking him even with broken bones during their past fights. Even with his hand on Stark's throat, while almost throttling him, Loki hadn't been able to silence him.

And now, the mortal was mute, apathetic, uninteresting. He wasn't the enemy capable of amusing him anymore.

He grimaced. Stark had been broken by someone else's hands and he didn't understand how.

Refraining himself from waking him to unleash his frustration on him, he shifted his gaze from the mortal's face, still tensed even in his sleep, to the strange contraption in his chest. It was another thing he was interested in but now wasn't the right time to get some answers.

After one last glance to Stark's sleeping figure, he put the clothes on the armchair and left the living room.

With just a thought, he materialized his scepter in his right hand.

Now there was the Tesseract's shard which needed his attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter! Unfortunately I'm quite busy with some exams so I fear I won't be able to update as frequently as I'd like to but I'll try to at least update once a week.  
> See you next chapter, with Thor, some Avengers scenes and maybe some more Loki/Tony interactions (I know, the story's pace is very slow and they still haven't really spoken to each other but they'll get there).


	11. Chapter 10: Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I made you wait so many days for this update. I was stuck with an evil exam and I barely had any free time. Thank you so much for your lovely comments and feedbacks! And special thanks as always go to my beta Sara, who edited my chapter amazingly fast so I can update right now.

**Chapter 10: Reunion**

 

Thor's declaration left everyone speechless for several seconds. The god had Mjolnir in his hand but the strangely clean Asgardian clothes showed that he hadn't had a fight, yet. His face was tired, like he hadn't slept in an entire month and had aged ten years in just a few days.

“Thor! We thought you were on Asgard. What are you doing here?” Steve asked and all could hear the unspoken words 'without letting us know' from his voice.

The god lowered his hammer.

“I have been sent by my father. Heimdall perceived a power similar to the Tesseract in the hands of a mortal and I have been ordered to investigate.” His voice became a tired murmur “But I was too late.”

Clint had been staring at him since his arrival. Contrary to his usual self, Thor had a grim expression that spoke volumes of how well he was faring with his last duty. There was no trace of his usual smile, in its place there were just tiredness and bitterness and for a moment, Clint wondered if the god's change had other reasons apart from this new Tesseract problem.

Next to him, Clint saw Natasha narrowing her gaze, as she always did when she followed her own intuition.

“You mean, Loki perceived this power and came to get it?”

The archer almost winced at that name.

But even with the bitter taste of bile in his mouth because of the mention of Thor's bastard sibling, Clint couldn't deny his approval towards the redheaded spy. He had always been amazed by her ability to understand what the people didn't say and to put all the unimportant details together until she understood exactly what was going on.

Thor's gaze lowered, his eyes staring at the floor, like he didn't have the strength to behave like his proud, easygoing former self.

“I fear so.”

And suddenly, Clint's mouth was too dry and he had to breathe deeply to avoid the sickness which was spreading in his gut.

“You sure it's Loki's work?” He asked Thor, his voice sounding more hostile than he had wanted to.

It wasn't the first time that the Avengers' and Loki's path met after the Chitauri invasion. They had fought against each other many times, during the last year but Clint still couldn't think of him without feeling a burning anger and, at the same time, a nauseating fear and humiliation, like the magic that had violated his mind were still inside him, ready to make him Loki's willing slave.

The horrifying feeling of belonging to someone else, body and soul, never ceased to torment him because he remembered everything. Loki hadn't erased Clint's personality, he had just bent the archer to his will, to become Clint's priority, his true and only god. And that had been much worst than a simple brainwashing: even when he had killed his S.H.I.E.L.D.'s allies, he had always been Clint. He had thought as Clint, lived as Clint, felt as Clint. He had always remained himself expect from his urge to gain Loki's approval because he had craved it like his one and only need. Clint had been a slave and had been totally glad about it.

It had been the worst violation he could imagine and he would never forgive the god.

Trying to suppress the hatred he felt towards Loki, he shifted his gaze from the wall to Thor, who was nodding at Natasha.

“The reason I was summoned back on Asgard was that my brother had stolen a powerful artifact. It is named as the Casket of the Ancient Winter, the heart of Jotunheim.” The god pointed with Mjolnir to the ice cage where Schmidt's body was trapped. “That is its frightening power.”

Clint clenched his fists.

_How come those goddam gods couldn't even control Loki? Or at least, couldn't they fucking avoid giving the bastard new weapons to bring chaos on Earth?_

He took a deep breath and swallowed the bile and the sickness that had threatened to fill his mouth.

“Bad guys fighting each other? Good news, for me.” He said, with a forced smile he knew it wouldn't deceive Natasha.

“If Tony weren't in the middle of it.” Steve scolded him, with a serious expression.

Confused, Thor took a look around.

“Where is Tony Stark?”

Steve's stern expression turned grim.

“He was captured a month ago, after you left for Asgard. This was where Hydra was holding him.”

The god looked surprised, then his expression showed a glimpse of sadness which couldn't mean anything good and he shook his head.

“I explored this building before your arrival but I did not see the Man of Iron. Here, there are just fallen mortals I do not know.”

Natasha was the first one to react, while the others were still trying to accept these words.

“I'm going to take a look around.” She said. And with that, she was gone without waiting for an answer.

Clint just spared her a glance, since he was sure she could defend herself well enough even without them.

Next to him, Steve was explaining to Thor what had happened since his departure but Clint was too focused on his own anger and hatred towards Loki to listen properly to the conversation. Tony wasn't there and what was worse, Loki had been there before them. With a new weapon. A fucking godly artifact which the other gods hadn't been able to protect.

He took a couple of steps away, trying to ease his frustration before he unloaded it against the thunder god – and he knew he shouldn't have any ill feelings towards him but Thor reminded him of his little shit of a brother and of the other gods' failure to keep Loki caged.

To distract himself, he went closer to Bruce, who was still studying the strange block of ice.

“What do you think? He asked him, after a minute.

The doctor sighed.

“It still isn't melting.” He took off his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt. “I fear it will be troublesome, now that Loki has this new power.”

“You mean, more troublesome than usual?”

Bruce attempted a depressed smile.

“Yeah.”

“Wonderful, just what we needed! A crazy, psychopath god with fucking magic powers who now can also freeze people at will.” Clint couldn't avoid glaring at Thor, even if he knew it wasn't his fault.

But he was tired of those gods who couldn't even restrain one of their own kind. It almost seemed like they _enjoyed_ being fooled by Loki. And with Tony lost who knows where, he couldn't control himself, especially now, after their hopes of finding him here had been so painfully destroyed.

_Why are we always the ones who have to put up with the gods' shit and mistakes?_

Before he said something he would later regret, Natasha was back.

No one heard her, she just appeared among them like she had never gone away.

“No survivors and no Stark. I checked all the dead bodies, he's not here.” She spoke without any emotions and her face was impenetrable and collected but Clint knew her well enough to recognize the way she tightened her finger on the gun. “One of the cells has been used recently, though. And there was no body in it, just some dried blood.”

It could be both good or bad news.

“The prisoner you interrogated said that he was sure Tony was still alive three days ago.” Steve commented. “So we have two possibilities: some Hydra agents are still alive and had Tony transferred in another location or they killed him recently and disposed of his body.” And the super soldier paled under his mask while saying the last words, even if his voice didn't falter.

Natasha hardened her gaze.

“Or Loki took him.”

Thor turned to look at her.

“I do not understand. Why would my brother take the Man of Iron?”

Clint tensed, fighting the urge to shout at him. Thor was a friend and he respected the god's anachronistic sense of honor and his forthright mind but every time he referred to Loki as his brother, Clint wanted to punch him.

“If you found one of your enemies wounded and helpless, what would you do?” Natasha asked the god.

Thor looked unsure, like he were recalling the Asgardian honor code in his mind, in hope to find the right answer in it.

“I would use him to gain information.” Clint answered in his stead. “Pity there's no survivor to interrogate.”

At his side, Steve suddenly tensed. His gaze pointed to the block of ice, his lips were closed in a thin line and his fists were clenched so tight they almost tremble.

“We can ask him.”

Before Clint could express how absurd the idea sounded to him, Bruce slowly nodded.

“Steve is right. He and Schmidt have a similar metabolism. If Steve has survived for seventy years in hibernation, maybe we can have our prisoner to interrogate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Loki and no Tony but the next chapter will be all about them. Also, I'm finally on holidays, no more exams for a while, so I should be able to update again in a few days. Thanks again for the comments, the kudos and the bookmarks, hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	12. Chapter 11: Studying the enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank so much Sara for her help as my beta. And thank you all for your comments and your feedbacks, I really appreciate them.

**Chapter 11: Studying the enemy**

 

_Schmidt was smiling while staring at him._

“ _I suggest you to not do that.”_

“ _Sorry but I'm not used to following my enemies' advices” Tony replied, with a shrug._

_And then, he released the blast._

 

Tony opened his eyes with a gunshot ringing in his head.

For a moment, while his lungs refused to breathe, he was sure he was still in the dark cell where Schmidt kept him prisoner, with the heavy chains on his wrists and his throat constricted by the cold collar around his neck. But he could feel something soft under him and he smelled clean, like he hadn't for weeks. Nothing was binding him. He still felt pain in all of his body but he didn't have any new wounds and instead of blood and dirt, he smelled a pleasing soap on his skin.

He blinked, focusing his gaze on his surroundings and as soon as he recognized the aseptic living room he was in, he remembered what had happened.

_Loki._

The god was nowhere in sight but there were clothes on the free spot of the couch. He stared at them with great surprise. Then, his surprise turned into disbelief when he grabbed one of the t-shirts and recognized it immediately as one of his own. It should have been absurd but he wasn't wrong: the t-shirt had even the hole for the Arc Reactor. And even the pants and the boxers looked familiar.

Creepy but it wouldn't be the first time Loki enjoyed playing with someone's mind.

He discarded the wet towel and put on his clothes without wondering if it was a trap or a trick. He simply basked in the wonderful sensation of having something to cover himself; some actual clothes and not just a towel. Even if the clothes rubbed on his wounds, it was too good to wear something after entire weeks of nakedness. The t-shirt, the boxer, the pants felt kind of consoling and a part of him was oddly grateful to Loki for that. The rest of him just wanted to think about nothing.

Sharpening his gaze to see through the dim light of what seemed to be a late evening, he stood up and went to the kitchen where he fetched a glass of water. He drank while looking outside through one of windows. The dark sky still had some traces of the sunset, so it seemed Loki's spell didn't change the normal alternation of day and night.

A stomach's cramp remind him of how long he hadn't have something to eat. For a moment, he allowed himself to hope that Loki, together with the clothes, had also brought him some food but when he opened the fridge and the pantry, he found them still empty.

He left the kitchen strangling a low sigh.

The anguish he felt at the idea of remaining alone with his thoughts made him reach the bedroom. As strange as it would be the fact that the god had returned just to ignore him, Tony was almost certain that Loki was still in the house. And he couldn't imagine any other room where he could find him.

His thoughts proved to be corrected when, after a brief hesitation in front of the half closed door, he opened it and entered the bedroom. Loki was there.

He knew it was dangerous, like entering the proverbial lion pit but he really didn't care.

He took a step forward, staring at the god without making a noise. Loki was sitting cross-legged on the bed, dressed in his usual leather pants but barefooted and with only an undershirt covering his torso. Judging by the green light that surrounded him, the only light in the room, he was busy with some kind of spell, probably a complex one, since he had his eyes closed. His scepter was lying on his legs and in front of him was floating what seemed like a bright blue pearl. The god's hands were open and were surrounding the pearl without touching it; there were several strands of green magic generated from his fingers which seemed to hit the pearl in a non violent way.

Tony's gaze remained focused on the god, while he was unsure of what to do. If he hadn't found the clothes, he would have sworn Loki had forgotten he was there. Anyway, it was clear that the god didn't care about his presence at the moment. He wondered why the god had taken him if he didn't seem interested in torturing him to death or in extorting useful information from him. This strange behavior was the opposite Tony had expected and he didn't understand it. But thinking about it, Loki had always been unpredictable.

He was about to return to the living room when the god turned his head towards him, without speaking nor interrupting his spell.

“Remain still and do not make any noises.” He ordered Tony, sounding threatening and commanding even with this low murmur.

Tony let himself slide on the floor, with his back against the wall. It hurt, since he was still wounded and his back still carried the whipping marks and the burns but he was too tired to remain upright without the aid of the wall and the pain was perfectly bearable comparing to the actual torture.

Ignoring it, he focused again on the god, studying him with just a hint of curiosity. Thanks to the light of the spell, he was able to see his face even through the night's darkness. He had never seen Loki so concentrated. He also noticed that the god's hands were moving slightly, his fingers tracing delicate patterns in the air while the green strands extended until they reached the scepter, connecting it to the blue pearl.

In Loki's presence, the silence wasn't so unbearable since he could concentrate all his thoughts on the god instead of on the horrors lingering in his soul. He studied all of Loki's movements with a light surprise. He was used to the crazy, psychopathic god who fought while laughing and threatening; he was used to the menacing and amused expression Loki had showed when they had managed to capture him – when he had allowed them to capture him – and now, it was strange to see him motionless and collected like this, with a distant expression on his face and his lips sealed in concentration. If Tony hadn't seen his chest moving at every breath, he would have thought he was staring to a valuable statue of the god.

It was easy to forget he was an extremely powerful sorcerer when they exchanged verbal banter and hits during a fight, when Loki laughed like a manic, crazy asshole and Tony was happy to try to take him down with his suit – never really succeeding but at least he had kept trying.

Now, Loki really seemed like a deity, a too powerful master of the arcane with centuries of experience in developing his skills and magic. His composure seemed unreal. It made him look like an ancient, mysterious being with a limitless power and for the first time, Tony really wondered how old Loki was.

With his magic enveloping his body like a green flame, the scepter pulsating of power and the blue pearl floating in front of him, he seemed more like a god than Thor ever did.

Tony's eyes shifted from the green magic to the god's concentrated face. If Thor was all physical prowess and strength and muscles, Loki was the agility of a snake, ready to strike at the first occasion and too fast to be stopped. During the fights, he moved with the same fluid, graceful movements Natasha possessed and was even faster. However, now that Tony could study him, he realized Loki was stronger than it seemed at first glance: the god's muscles on his naked arms were lean but well defined and Tony wondered if Loki had just used his physical strength and not his magic when he had crushed his suit barehanded. He could still feel the unmovable grip on his neck, slowly choking him, bending the metal of his suit like it had been nothing.

Tony briefly recollected all the past fights, the times when Loki managed to face all the Avengers without getting killed or maimed, the time in Stuttgart when he almost defeated Steve with frightening ease and without using his magic, the time when he had been smashed by the Hulk and he managed to stand up in a matter of minutes...

No, Loki could be physically weaker than Thor but he was not weak by any means.

The green light suddenly doubled its intensity and Tony shifted his gaze towards the pearl. Now there were two of them, one a lot bigger than the other. Loki moved one of his fingers and the smaller pearl vanished. Then, the god's face tensed and the green magic completely engulfed the blue light of the remaining pearl while the air became strangely heavy and infused with some sort of energy which made Tony's skin prickle. Just when he was starting to feel uneasy, a green flash blinded him for a moment, making him lift an arm to shield his eyes. A second later, the pearl was gone.

He had to blink twice to focus his gaze again and to realize that the second pearl, instead of vanishing, had been embedded in the scepter, where it shone with a blue-green shade.

The god stared at his weapon, panting, in a testament of how taxing that spell had been. Then, he curled his lips in a satisfied smile. It lasted for a couple of seconds before all was replaced by his usual impenetrable expression and Loki, with a sudden movement that made Tony startle, pointed the scepter at him, the threatening tip against the mortal's throat.

Tony felt his pulse accelerate while the weapon brushed his neck and pressed against his skin just enough to let him know how sharp and deadly it was.

He tensed, waiting for the final blow. He didn't deem it beneath Loki to let a prisoner live for half a day, lulling him into a false calm with a shower and some clothes, and then to kill him just for the fun of it, without a reason nor a warning.

Tony waited for one second, two seconds, three seconds, with his gaze fixated on the mattress. But the scepter still wasn't killing him. The blade just brushed his skin without spilling blood, like the god had yet to decide where to stab him.

The uneasiness in his chest was growing at each passing second. Tony was tired and sick of this game, of this waiting. He was surprised when he felt a glimpse of irritation towards Loki through his apathy.

_What was the god waiting for?_

He wanted everything to end. It didn't matter if Loki let him live or killed him, he just wanted that the god finally decided what to do to him.

Without drawing back his scepter, Loki stood up with his usual graceful movements. Then, he applied more pressure against Tony's chin, to force him to meet his gaze.

“Are you not asking me anything?”

Tony stared at the god with an intense surprise, before understanding what he meant. He hesitated: he was hungry, since Schmidt let him have only one meal a day and that day Loki had arrived before he received his food. But the truth wasn't an easy answer to give the god. Tony wasn't sure how much of it was pride, how much it was the fear to show a weakness that would make him be tortured more and how much it was a self destructive behavior. But he couldn't answer affirmatively.

Slowly, he shook his head.

The god seemed to harden his face but maybe it was just an illusion created by the shadows.

“Then I suggest you sleep without making a sound.”

The weapon left Tony's throat, allowing him to lower his gaze. Then, a chain much lighter than the ones Schmidt had used to bind him, materialized around his right wrist, binding it to a metal ring which had just appeared on the floor.

“You shall not disturb me or I will make you regret it for the rest of the night.”

After vanishing his scepter, Loki returned to the bed without even taking the leather pants off. It seemed he had exhausted all his energy since as soon as he lied on the center of the mattress, he fell asleep.

Tony searched for a less uncomfortable position on the floor, lying with an arm under his head like a substitute for a cushion. The chain was pressing against the wound on his wrist but fortunately it wasn't too tight and it was long enough to let him sit and even stand if he wanted to.

Despite his tiredness, he remained with his eyes open in the dark, focused on the sleeping god, wondering what his intentions were.

Loki hadn't tortured him yet, nor had he interrogated him on the other Avengers, on S.H.I.E.L.D. or on Earth in general. He hadn't even given him orders apart from being silent and not to disturb him.

For the first time since what seemed like centuries, Tony wondered what would happen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, let me know what you thought about the chapter. Next one will arrive in a few days, with some more Loki's and Tony's interaction.


	13. Chapter 12: Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedbacks! I didn't expect so many comments and I'm glad you are so interested in my fic! You made my day. And special thanks go to Sara, for her precious help with all of these chapters.
> 
> Warnings: PTSD and references to torture

**Chapter 12: Awakening**

 

_The cave was dark and too hot to let him breathe easily through the sand and the dust. The stink of blood was all around him and it was difficult not to retch, not to expel the omnipresent bile in his throat. The silence was so deep and absolute, it annihilated his own mind, his memories, his hopes, and was just intensifying his terror._

_In an instinctive gesture, he lifted his hand to touch his chest and he barely managed to choke a cry when his fingers met a hole instead of the reassuring surface of the Arc Reactor. Now, he didn't have the very thing which could keep him alive._

_Then, came the voices, the rough laugh, the stink of death, of sweat, of dirt. There were callous fingers on his neck, his damaged heart was trying to escape from his chest, his nerves were on fire and he was trying so desperately to free himself – and he already knew he wouldn't be able to. He would only prolong his suffering and their amusement._

_Then, he was underwater, screaming silently while the cold invaded his soul without extinguishing the fire in his lungs._

_Then, he was in the desert, forcing himself to keep walking, to always take another step, to refuse to die in that burning ocean of sand._

_Then, he was facing Schmidt, his eyes focused on the children while he was too arrogant to stop the horror._

_Then, he was with Rhodey, during his own birthday when he was dying and fighting him, suit versus suit, with the alcohol in his veins that wasn't really able to mitigate his desperation._

_Then, he was lying on the ground beneath his friend and all around him there were the children's dead bodies while he was screaming without making any sounds._

_And Rhodey looked at his face, and he was Rhodey, he was Loki, he was Schmidt, he was every one of the children._

“ _You are not the protector you thought you were. You don't deserve the suit. You are not worthy of being Iron Man. Pathetic little mortal without a heart, who built a suit to pretend to be a hero and to fill the hole in his chest.”_

_And the freezing water returned to invade his lungs while he screamed._

 

Tony woke up with his own screams echoing in his head. He was sitting on a hard floor but his mouth was so dry it seemed like he had swallowed sand for hours, like he were in Afghanistan again, waiting for Rhodey. But this time, no one would arrive, no one would save him. This time, he was alone, he could only fall, fall without a pause, without a bottom to reach.

He blinked, trying to slow down his heartbeat.

It took him several minutes to realize that he wasn't in the desert anymore, nor was he in the cave, feeling the unbearable pain where the first, rudimental Arc Reactor was, the fear that someone could rip it off from his chest...

His breath was coming too fast, he was about to hyperventilate but he fought against the fear the nightmare had left in his mind. He was used to it, he knew how to calm himself.

When he managed to actually look at his surroundings – a clean bedroom without a lot of furniture, the light coming from two windows, the floor where he had slept, without any dust – he found himself meeting a pair of familiar green eyes.

He took a deep breath, trying so hard not to tremble while he still had his mind filled with the images of his nightmare. He knew the god could see the fear on his face. His hair was wet with sweat, he was lightly panting and the scream he had managed to hold back was still stuck in his throat.

He felt and looked vulnerable; however, Loki didn't say a word. He just stared at him with a cold detachment that made Tony feel like an experiment; but he wasn't threatening him nor did he seemed to be in a talkative mood.

Not wanting to speak either, Tony returned to lay on the floor, turning his back on him while he still felt the cold sweat down his shoulders and on his forehead.

He was used to having nightmares. He had been having them since he had been captured by the Ten Ring. After he became Iron Man, they had been less frequent but the experience with Schmidt had made the trauma arise again and had left him with new nightmares to be tormented with.

He breathed deeply and slowly, trying not to make a sound.

In his former cell, that dark and cold place, he had had nightmares half of the nights but he had been alone so he could compose himself and calm down before anyone saw him like that. Now, he felt the god's gaze burning his back.

He touched his chest, where what was left of his heart seemed like it wanted to escape from his ribcage. But he felt a little better when his fingers met the hard surface of his greatest creation: it was the testament of him not being in Afghanistan. Of him being alive. He was the crazy, homicidal god's captive but he wasn't trapped in a dirty cave, with his chest split open and the shrapnel that was killing him inch after inch.

He was alive. In Loki's hands, but alive. And if the god decided to kill him, at least he wouldn't die in a who-knows-where place where everything smelled like sand and blood.

When he finally managed to breathe normally and to make his panic attack recede, he concentrated in checking what his conditions were. It was to distract himself from the worst thoughts, he knew it but checking his wounds seemed to be a better idea than freeing the memories he was trying so desperately to forget.

He began from his torso. His back hurt, more because of the tortures than because of the night spent on the floor. His wrists were burning, especially the chained one but they weren't bleeding anymore. His whole body was covered in bruises and small cigarette burns but he didn't have any broken bones and he actually felt a little better than the day before. However, his stomach was so empty it hurt.

He sighed, wondering if Loki simply wanted him to starve to death or if it was an attempt to make him talk and surrender. To _beg_ for some food.

It had been almost a couple of days since his last meal. Two days. Forty-eight hours. Two thousand eight hundred and eighty minutes. One hundred and seventy-two thousand eight hundred seconds.

A normal, perfectly healthy man could survive even a week without food, even two or three. But he wasn't a perfectly healthy man, as the weight on his chest reminded him at every breath. How many seconds were there in a week?

The sound of a rustling blanket interrupted his train of thought before he could calculate that. He turned, sitting up with a grimace when his aching limbs tensed because of the movement.

Without sparing a glance on him, the god stood up and exited the room. A few seconds later, Tony heard the unmistakable outpour of water.

 _So, even a god has to take a shower_. Then he remembered that Thor, when he was on Earth, used to take one shower a day, delighted in what he considered a little domestic waterfall. But somehow, Loki always seemed like he was distant from material needs and to imagine him in a shower like a normal human being, was strange, especially after the day before, when Tony had seen him at his best of his divine status.

Once, he would have made some jokes about how even Loki had the same needs as the lowly mortals he despised so much. Now, he just let a shadow of a small, ironic smile play on his lips.

It took several long minutes before Loki came back. He was completely dry, with his hair already slicked back and his leather clothes on in his usual appearance.

This time, the god's gaze actually shifted to him and after a couple of seconds, the chain on Tony's wrist disappeared with a flicker of Loki's fingers.

“Stark.” Loki was smiling, now, like he were studying an unexpected gift. “Are you ready to talk to me about your comrades and about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s defenses?”

Tony tensed while standing up but didn't answer. Instead, he stared at the floor. For a part of his mind, that question was comforting: now, he didn't have to face the uncertainty of what Loki wanted. The god would probably torture him but it would be a familiar situation that didn't suffocate him with the fear of an unknown danger. He just hoped Loki would use his magic and his scepter without using water like it had happened in Afghanistan – _the freezing water on his face, a thousand frozen needles on his skin that made him scream, the unbearable pain in his chest, where his heart was exposed, his desperate attempt to not move so that the battery that was keeping him alive wouldn't be wet, and I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't breathe..._

He closed his eyes, holding his breath until he saw black spots. Then, he breathed again, deeply and slowly, stopping the panic attack the way he had learned during the past few years.

When he opened his eyes, he was again in control of himself.

He looked at the god with a glimpse of surprise. He had expected Loki to take advantage of his weakness, to smirk, to laugh, to mock him. But the god's smile was gone and on his face, there was only an unreadable expression.

“As I thought, you do not seem disposed of collaborating.” Even the god's voice was emotionless. “However, I wonder if your choice depends on a foolish loyalty towards your comrades or if you are simply too stubborn for your own good.”

As a response, Tony pursed his lips. He waited for a painful retaliation but Loki didn't hit him. Instead, he stopped looking at him and went to the small library, taking one of the books and started skimming through the pages.

Soon, the god seemed like he found what he was looking for, since he read a couple of pages. When he closed the book, the golden armor was already appearing on his body. Loki turned again towards him and Tony must have showed his confusion since he smirked.

“Now I have no time to play with you. You shall wait for my return.”

His stomach answered for him before Tony could react to his words, growling with its need of food.

Loki's smile widened and he came closer, towering above him with his superior height. He was in full battle regalia except for the lack of the scepter and Tony, who was without his suit and with only a t-shirt and the pants, felt even more vulnerable and helpless.

“I hope you can feed yourself, Stark, because I certainly will not prepare your breakfast.”

And without waiting for an answer, Loki was gone.

Tony cussed silently inside his mind for several moments, temporarily forgetting his self loathing, his guilt, his apathy. Then, he went to the kitchen, with the sudden hope that the god's words had been more than just mocking and derision.

When he opened the fridge, he almost smiled in relief: it was full of food, as well as the pantry, as he discovered a couple of seconds later. In the end, it seemed like the god didn't want him to starve.

Caught by a suspicion which was a half hope, he went to the bedroom and opened the closet, finding it full of his own clothes. He took a t-shirt and a pair of black boxers, wanting to take a bath, now that he was alone. But soon, he dropped them on the bed and returned to the kitchen. He was too hungry, he would take the bath later.

Ignoring his instinctive impulse of ordering Jarvis some breakfast, he took food from the fridge and from the pantry and began to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think about this chapter and if you prefer sooner some Loki's and Tony's parts or some Avengers' parts.


	14. Chapter 13: A lost prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback, you are awesome! And special thanks go to Sara for her work as a beta, thank you darling.
> 
> About this chapter, since it seemed like a part of you wanted Loki and Tony and a part of you wanted to know about the Avengers and Schmidt's defrosting, I put a bit of both, hoping you won't be disappointed.

**Chapter 13: A lost prince**

The block of ice where the mortal was trapped still wasn't melting, despite the strange Midgardian contraption which was warming the room to the point he was sweating like he had been fighting for hours.

After an animated debriefing with Nick Fury, where he was asked about the Casket and about Loki's new power, he had gone to the room where the frozen enemy had been moved to and now, he was still there, his gaze fixated on the ice and his thoughts focused on his brother.

It seemed like Loki was still an incomprehensible enigma, after all.

His brother had always been able to surprise him, to act differently from him and from any other warriors of Asgard. But now, he really was a stranger. He brought chaos and didn't follow any rules, aiming towards a goal Thor couldn't see nor could he comprehend. And every time they met, it seemed like Loki took another step away from him, basking in the rage, in the grudge and in the desire of revenge which was fogging his mind.

Thor clenched his fists. He couldn't think that his brother was lost forever, that he was too crazy, too evil, too broken to return to Asgard.

But his mother trusted him and Thor himself couldn't abandon Loki because even after Odin had told him the truth about his origin, even after the crimes he had perpetrated, Thor still considered Loki his brother. Loki was one of the foundations of the place he called home. He was ready to do everything to have his brother back at his side.

_The humans think us immortal. Should we test that?_

This memory hurt him. It hurt and burned more than a Jotun's touch, more than the disappointed stare Odin had given him when he had banished him. However, he couldn't avoid the thought that Loki hadn't really wanted to kill him. Loki knew him perfectly, after all they had grown up together, and knew what he was able to do with Mjolnir. And if he had wanted to end his life, he wouldn't have pierced him with such a little knife during the Chitauri invasion. He would have conjured a sharp dagger or would have used magic to pierce him from side to side, instead of leaving only a small scar on his skin that was one of the more painful testaments of his hatred towards him.

And that hadn't been the only strange thing about Loki. When he was guiding the Chitauri, his brother seemed like he lacked conviction. Even if he had spent centuries underestimating Loki's power, he knew his brother hadn't fought seriously against the Avengers.

Loki could have killed more than a half of their group without any real effort because, apart from Banner and himself, the other Avengers didn't stand a chance against a god: without his armor, Tony Stark was weak and defenseless, like any other human. The archer and Lady Natasha were very good warriors but their bodies were frail and couldn't compete against the strength of a Jotun. And Steve Rogers was stronger than any other Midgardians but he still didn't pose a threat for someone like Loki.

However, his brother hadn't killed any of them. And now that he had the Casket, Loki could have taken advantage of his absence to do some serious damage to the Midgardians and to the Avengers but he hadn't even fought against them during those weeks.

Sometimes, when he allowed himself to have some optimistic thoughts that his companions called foolery, Thor wanted to hope that these little details meant that Loki didn't really aim to conquer Midgard. Sometimes, he just wanted to hope that his brother could still be saved.

Also in the place of Loki's last apparition, there was something wrong: the missing arm of the Midgardian had been found on the floor and it seemed like the skin of the hand had been peeled off. Bruce Banner had told him that Loki had maimed the human after having defeated him and he didn't understand why his brother should have done something like that.

A sound disrupted his thoughts and he shifted his gaze towards the ice. He couldn't wait for the human to wake up so that he could interrogate him about his brother and he smiled when he understood what that sound had been. In the frozen prison the human was in, a crack had appeared.

 

 

He had arrived to the place protected by the invisibility spell which shielded him even from Heimdall's gaze. It hadn't been too difficult to enter in Asgard even if it seemed like Odin had adopted some new defenses after he had taken the Casket.

Loki was almost disappointed by the lack of true obstacles because even with the improved defenses, he had managed to reach the relic's hall without risking his life. And that stung. It was like the All-Father was still underestimating him.

When he began looking for the Tesseract, however, he had to hide a smile, realizing how wrong he had been in his last, frustrated thought: the artifact was not there. It took him a couple of hours to discover where the Tesseract was being held. And then, he truly smiled because for once, it could be that Odin was really considering him a threat.

He used two other protective spells, so that only the fewest of the best sorcerers of the Nine Realms would be able to detect him and maybe to harm him. Then, he went to the most hidden and the oldest branches of Yggdrasil, where he had felt an almost imperceptible glimpse of the Tesseract. He found himself staring at a naked, polished rock.

He took a step forward, knowing that he was as invisible and impalpable as thoughts were. A sudden vibration under him made him stop. He dashed back just in time to avoid the white flame which erupted in the exact place he had been just an instant before.

He materialized his scepter, while the rush of adrenaline sharpened his senses.

In front of him, three figures appeared. They didn't have a real body, they just had the outline of an humanoid shape, with a color similar to the one the cortex had. He recognized them at first sight: the Firstborns, beings of magic and of power, which were born from Yggdrasil's lymph and couldn't leave that place. They guarded the Tree's branches on Asgard and they were their most powerful and dangerous defenders because they took their power from the Tree itself.

_Beautiful, All-Father_.

He smiled, strengthening his hold on his scepter.

Despite all of his concealment spells, the Firstborns were staring at him with invisible eyes.

“Go away, fallen prince.” murmured one of them, or maybe all of them together, with a voice similar to the rustle of the leaves.

He had only a moment of hesitation but it was enough. Faster than he expected, a root appeared at his feet, trying to bind him to the ground. He jumped just in time, avoiding it thanks to his reflexes and immediately he had to cast a barrier to protect himself from a wind so sharp, it could slash a tree. They weren't really lethal attacks for a sorcerer of his caliber but he knew that if he didn't retreat, the fight would become more cruel and dangerous.

Like the Firstborns knew what he was thinking, they launched another attack: a white sun exploded in front of him, reaching for him with a frightening amount of power. His mind searched for a protective spell against this magic but it was too late: the words were stuck in his thoughts, too many to be pronounced in this little time, and the spell was too powerful to cast it just with his thoughts alone.

He tensed, while waiting for the impact with the white energy, confiding on his own resistance while his scepter brightened. Then, his magic exploded all around him, answering to his call faster than it had ever done before.

A shield surrounded him just before the white energy reached him. The impact was so violent he was almost forced to take a step back and all around him the earth trembled but the shield held on. He wasn't wounded, the Firstborns' magic had been stopped without even the need to talk aloud for his spell. He had just _thought_ that complicated spell and the shield had arose.

He laughed, feeling a pure, enraptured pleasure. The power coming from the scepter was amazing: he could feel it flowing in his veins together with the feeling of being invincible. He had spent hours trying to make the Tesseract's energy his own, to bind it to his own essence, to the magic he already possessed. And now, he realized it had worked better than he expected.

The Firstborns came closer. They were more cautious but still lethal. Far from here, he perceived Heimdall's gaze trying to locate him through his concealment and another, heavier gaze with only one eye, searching for him.

Even if he had arrived only a few minutes before, it seemed like the fight wouldn't be unnoticed.

He curved his lips in a smile.

He could stay. He could stay and fight for hours, discovering how much more powerful he had become and if he could defeat the most dangerous defenders of his people – _no, not his people. Odin's people, Thor's people. Never his._

It was tempting. He could show the All-Father and the Æsir that he was powerful enough to defy the Firstborns, to prove himself worthy, to make them realize they had lost the most powerful sorcerer Asgard had ever had...

But he had already gained what he wanted so there was no need for him to remain here further. If Thanos wanted to steal Odin's most precious relic, he had to face the Firstborns and the entirety of Asgard.

The Tesseract was really safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think about the chapter. I'll try to update again during this week and next two chapters will both be about Loki and Tony.


	15. Chapter 14: Haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the feedbacks, I'm so glad you enjoy my story. And special thanks go to Sara, my amazing beta, for her help.  
> Here is the new chapter, I hope you'll like it.

**Chapter 14: Haunted**

_They had been following him for the last hour. To be honest,_ he _was the one who had let them follow him. And after a whole year of more or less frequent fights, he knew who would reach him first._

“ _Are you here alone, Stark?” he commented while the mortal landed behind him “I begin to suspect that you are interested in me.”_

_Instead of taking advantage of his apparent distraction, the Avenger took a step closer, showing his omnipresent boldness._

“ _I'm sorry to let your ego down, Harry Potter, but I only wanted to win the 'who's gonna kick Loki's ass' prize of the week.”_

_Loki turned to face him and attacked him with a little blast of green magic, nothing serious, that the mortal managed to avoid._

“ _If you really believe you have a hope of defeating me, I am not the one who has ego problems, Tony Stark.”_

_The Avenger lifted his helmet plate to show him a fake adoring expression._

“ _You've used my name, I'm almost moved. Next time what will it be? Will you gift me some flowers?”_

_Loki smiled._

“ _If I am not wrong, on Midgard there is the custom to bring flowers at funerals.” he said, before attacking again, and Stark had to jump in the air to avoid being hit._

“ _Son of a bitch.” the mortal commented, with a voice that was more amused than hostile. A moment later, he shot Loki with the bright weapon of his hands but the magic shield surrounding the sorcerer held on “And by the way, I prefer a box of chocolate. Alcoholic chocolate.”_

_After leaving an illusion to face the mortal's attack, Loki managed to sneak behind him. He chose a powerful but non lethal spell to hit him with because he really didn't want him dead, at the moment._

“ _Even if you are foolishly convinced of it, I have no intention of courting you.” he murmured, before releasing the spell that sent the Avenger crashing against a building._

_Surprisingly, Stark managed to stand up and lifted off in the sky before Loki could hit him again, the red and gold armor a little damaged but still functioning._

“ _But you would like to, wouldn't you?” the Avenger said, winking, while landing a few feet from him._

_He still hadn't lowered his face plate – an unforgivable mistake._

_Loki attacked him with an illusion before appearing at his side, ready to strike him with the scepter. Tony was ready to block it but that was exactly what the god wanted and his other hand, with a knife, was ready to hit the mortal in the defenseless face._

_He stopped the knife when it was only one inch from Stark's throat and at the same moment, the armored hand of the mortal brightened, aiming at his face. They were so closed they could almost see their reflections in each other eyes._

“ _One hit of your armor will not be enough to kill me.” Loki smiled and brought the knife closer to the mortal's face, brushing his skin with the blade. “You, on the other side, are so frail that I could end your life with just this knife.”_

_The Avenger didn't falter._

“ _I'm pretty sure my suit's faster than your hand.”_

_Loki could have tried to see if it was the truth but he really didn't want to kill him._

_For just one moment, he had the fleeting impulse to close the distance between them and kiss him, just to see what Stark's reaction would have been, to see if he could silence the too talkative mortal with his own lips._

_And in the same moment, he had the feeling that Stark was thinking the same._

 

Someone was following him.

Someone who was not close enough to be a direct threat but Loki was perceiving his presence, the way the pursuer was following his steps with the calm that belonged to the hunters who knew they would reach their prey, sooner or later.

It was an unpleasant sensation which dampened the euphoria for the last fight. He knew he had a lot of enemies in all of the Nine Realms but only a few of them should have been able to recognize his tracks, when he traveled through the hidden path along Yggdrasil's branches with a concealment spell capable of fooling even Heimdall.

He stopped in the darkness between two Realms and closed his eyes, trying to locate his pursuer. He felt his presence, which again was too far to be recognizable. His pursuer was at the thresholds of Asgard, like he didn't dare to enter the All-Father's domain. So, he was someone powerful enough to follow him but not foolish enough to defy Odin.

He strengthened his grip on the scepter.

After he had chosen to stop fighting against the Firstborns, he hadn't used the usual cautiousness in erasing the traces of his presence, maybe because in truth, he wanted Odin to notice how powerful he had been. He shouldn't have allowed himself such recklessness but still, part of him wanted to trace down his pursuer and face him.

It was a tempting thought because in doing so, he could test the improvement of his power. And he was terribly curious, because now his scepter was much more powerful than the one Thanos had given to him. He brushed against the blue gem which was embedded in his weapon, feeling it pulsating as a response to his touch. It was warm, filled with energy. And he had the other blue pearl, smaller but still powerful, hidden away with the Casket and his other important artifacts as an emergency source of energy.

Even if his enemies managed to take his scepter away from him and to exhaust his magic, he still wouldn't be defenseless.

After having cast a stronger spell to conceal his presence, he reached for his pursuer with his mind. He just brushes his enemy's conscience but it was enough. Loki froze, while his mind was being invaded by memories about his fall, about the Chitauri's torture, about black and twisted monsters, about cruel laughter and a murmur which was a half a threat.

_We will find you, fallen prince. We will found you and you will crawl and beg us to give you a quick death._

His lips twitched in a grimace which showed his teeth. It was difficult to breathe properly, his body was tense and even if he managed to draw his mind back before that beast noticed him, he still called for his magic to cover his body with an invisible shield.

His pursuer was The Other. Thanos' most trusted slave. And if the Mad Titan managed to catch him, even all of his magic wouldn't be enough to save him.

He snarled against the threat, knowing that Thanos had sent his men to look for him and bring him in chains at his feet to suffer a fate worse than death. He knew Thanos wanted to punish him. But he didn't think his men would be so close.

His hatred arose, sudden and overwhelming. He despised the feeling of being helpless, of being _mortal_ against a too powerful enemy who could end his existence with only a movement of his hands. It was nauseating even now, that he could feel it again only through his memories.

For a moment, the urge to hit and kill and destroy was so intense he was about to reach The Other and see if he could get his revenge for all the torture he had endured under his care. But it would be too dangerous to face him when he could avoid him and disappear.

He erased his last traces, then he opened a portal for Midgard and sent one of his illusions to follow a wrong path. He was going to create a false trace, before teleporting to his house. And there, he would find someone, a _mortal_ , a being who was truly helpless – and thinking about Stark and his refusal to speak, the rage in his chest took a more threatening shade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think about this chapter. And next chapter will be centred on Loki and Tony again.


	16. Chapter 15: A taste of ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm so sorry it took me almost a month to update my story. Fact is, I was really busy in RL, plus my pc tried to die on me and I had to replace some parts. Now it hopefully should work better.
> 
> Anyway, I hope this new chapter won't disappoint you. Thank you so much for all your feedbacks and especially your comments, I love them! And special thanks go to my beta Sara, I don't know what I would do without her help.

**Chapter 15: A taste of ice**

 

Tony spent the hours in solitude eating, showering and exploring the rooms again to see if by chance Loki had changed something or had brought some other things in his house. He didn't find anything new, so in the end he sat on the floor in the same place where he had watched the god during the night before and resigned himself to wait for his return.

His gaze rose when Loki appeared in his bedroom in a bright green light.

When Loki's eyes shifted to him, Tony suppressed the urge to stand up, even if remaining seated made him feel more vulnerable.

“No surprise attacks? No fleeting attempts?”. The soft voice of the god sounded even more threatening than a growl. Loki himself seemed like a predator trying to seduce his prey before killing it mercilessly. “I was expecting better from you, Stark.”

Tony didn't react; it was like he hadn't even heard his words. His eyes returned to the floor while he tried to ignore the god and his own thoughts. It was better not to think. It was better to be lulled in a voiceless nothing, where there weren't any thoughts or memories that could hurt him. The Fibonacci sequence was filling his mind and he was silently articulating each number with a firm voice he hadn't allowed himself to use outside his head since his defeat against Schmidt.

He didn't have the alcohol to mitigate his pain and dull his senses but he still had math.

He was almost in a peaceful state of mind but suddenly the god's pale and slender fingers were on him. Tony found himself lifted and slammed against the wall, Loki's right hand on his throat, squeezing his windpipe and his own feet were barely touching the floor. He grabbed the god's arm out of pure instinct, trying to loosen his grasp so that he could breathe. Loki allowed him to take a couple of difficult wheezes but didn't release him.

Tony struggled to breathe properly but his throat ached, his lungs burned and he wondered if it wouldn't be easier to not fight and to let Loki kill him.

He knew he couldn't avoid death if that was what the god had in store for him. But he could die fighting. Even if he hadn't received the training Natasha and Clint had, he knew where to hit to hurt an enemy.

Loki was wearing his armor and was too close, so it would be difficult to knee him in the balls but his nose and eyes were defenseless. Even in this situation and against a god, Tony could fight and maybe manage to hit him once or twice before being slayed.

But he didn't do anything.

He was trying to start again with the Fibonacci sequence before the lack of air made him unconscious, when he felt the Loki's ragged breath on his face. 

Only then he realized the god's condition. Loki wasn't hurt but his usual composure and control were gone, replaced by a strange tautness which seemed like a prelude to a fit of rage. He was almost trembling because of his desire to kill and to spill blood and his face was paper white. But the most threatening thing about Loki, were his eyes. They seemed like they were haunted by shadows darker than a starless night, darker than the ones Tony had managed to see before he had been thrown out the window.

And Tony recognized immediately the emotion hidden beneath the furious green of Loki's gaze: it was the same mix of anger and desperation Tony had felt countless times during his life, when he couldn't control the situation anymore, when being Tony Stark was simply too much to bear so he took the first drink he could grab and drank himself to sleep. But Loki wasn't like him. When Loki was desperate, when he was furious, he didn't drink until he passed out. Loki killed.

For a moment, Tony strengthened his hold on the god's arm. Then he lowered his hands and stopped fighting.

 _Soon, it will all be over_ , he thought, with more relief than regrets.

Loki made a grimace. A second later, he pulled him closer before slamming him again against the wall, harder than the first time.

“Are you so pathetic that you are not even able to fight for your life?” he hissed while Tony wondered what would be the best for him, to abandon himself to oblivion or to struggle to breathe in order to remain conscious.

He barely managed to focus on Loki's face. In his eyes, he recognized the usual dangerous irritation the god had been showing him when Tony refused to speak. But there was also a glimpse of disappointment which surprised him. It lasted only one moment, before the rage took possession of the god's lineaments.

“What has changed you so much?” Loki asked him, easing his grip to just let him take a strained breath.

Tony lowered his gaze, focusing on the bed behind the god, without answering. The tightening of the grip on his neck let him know that Loki didn't like his silence and soon he found himself with his chin forcefully lifted so that he couldn't avoid meeting his gaze.

“What is happening to you, Stark? Can you not look at me?” The poisonous hiss of the god's voice was followed by a hard shake. “Do you think I am not worthy of your attention?”

Again, Tony refused to answer and shifted his gaze, despite knowing the god would only became angrier. _In the end, Loki was a full-tilt diva, he wanted flowers, he wanted parades, he wanted a monument built to the skies with his name plastered... –_ _and it seemed to him like an entire life had passed since that one tragicomic moment when analyzing a supervillain's mind had been like staring at himself in the mirror._

But now, Tony had nothing to say to him and if the god's green eyes were looking for an enemy, they were looking in vain because Tony was empty.

When he heard Loki breathing like he was growling, he readied himself to bear his rage. With his gaze still focused on the distant wall, he tensed but it wasn't the sharp pain he was expecting what he felt, nor was it the snap of his own neck.

He held his breath, every thought vanished from his mind now that he could feel the god's lips on his own.

Loki was kissing him.

His heart began pounding against his Arc Reactor, while the surprise caused by the god's act made him remain still like a stone. And Tony wasn't shocked because he was being kissed by a man, since he had had his fair share of male lovers when the female ones bored him. He was shocked because the man kissing him was Loki. His enemy, the bag-full-of-cats-crazy god he had been fighting during the last year. 

Maybe this was just Loki's new way to humiliate him and to threaten him but it wasn't a really violent kiss.

He pressed himself against the wall, in a vain attempt to escape the contact with the god, but he himself didn't know what to do and what he wanted. A part of him needed to shove Loki away, another part, the most indifferent one, suggested him to close his eyes and to remain still, to bear what the god wanted from him, waiting for the end. And then, there was the smallest part of him that yearned for some kind of gentle touch after weeks of torture and guilt and self-contempt.

He was still too shocked and confused to move when Loki released his throat to grab his hair trapping Tony against his lips. And Tony's body knew sex, it was accustomed to react to physical contact even when his mind was too far away because of the alcohol or the exhaustion: before the Avenger could think, he opened his lips when he felt Loki's tongue and allowed the god to deepen the kiss.

Loki tasted like mint and ice and winter. It was Tony's last thought before the god interrupted the kiss to lower his mouth on his neck, biting him where there were the signs of his own fingers.

Tony gasped, in what was a half protest and a half surprise. Then Loki became gentler, shifting on his skin with little bites that made him shiver, and Tony could feel himself react to this contact that reminded him how many days he spent without having sex.

Loki must have realized it too since Tony could feel him grinning against his skin. A moment later, the god was palming his crotch, where he was getting hard in spite of the anguished thoughts that were filling his mind. He couldn't muffle a groan of pleasure and Loki laughed, predatory and dangerous, when he began stroking him through his pants.

“Tell me what you want, Stark.” the god purred, before gently biting his jaw. “Talk to me.”

And all his thoughts, that had been frozen because of his astonishment, filled his mind in a wave of self-loathing, desperation, suspicion and lust.

_Loki was his enemy but he wasn't a hero anymore and didn't have a dignity to defend, and all was too good – the kisses, the bites, the hand on his already hard length, Loki's cold breath against his own burning skin, the perceptions that allowed him to think about nothing. But he didn't deserve such a relief, he had to escape from the god and to hunch down on the floor, waiting to die._

He balled his hands into fists.

It was too much.

Too many emotions, too many sensations to bear while he was still so broken.

With a strength he didn't know he possessed, he shoved Loki away, managing to slip through the god and the wall.

For one moment, Loki looked surprised, then his eyes showed a dangerous anger.

“Maybe I should remind you of your place.” he hissed. He lifted one of his hands and the chains appeared from the floor like the night before, enveloping Tony's wrists and dragging him down. This time, however, the chains were too short to allow Tony to stand so he couldn't do anything but sit on the floor.

There had been a day, when he was still Iron Man and he had been ready to shoot Loki in the face while the god had had a dagger against his neck, when he had wondered how kissing Loki would be.

Now, chained to the floor, with the throat that hurt at every breath and the ice-minted taste of Loki on his tongue, he wondered if it still mattered.


	17. Chapter 16: Just a boring pet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedbacks! I didn't expect so many reviews, so I've tried to update as soon as I can. It's a short chapter, but I'm already translating the next one, so I should be able to update again early in the next week. Special thanks go as always to Sara, my beta.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter.

**Chapter 16: Just a boring pet**

  _It was during the second battle against the Avengers, that he found Stark interesting enough to have him sometimes on his mind, even when they weren't fighting against each other._

_The mortal was the first of his group of that so called heroes to catch up with him. Loki was sitting on a tree's branch in the same park he had landed after his escape from Asgard. He had been bored so he had animated some of the trees, finding it amusing to create some chaos just for the sake of it._

_This time he didn't want to move war against Midgard, he was just having some fun and wanted to show that he was back and the Avengers hadn't really erased the threat of his presence._

_One day, when Thanos would be no more, he would have his revenge against those puny mortals that had dared to defy him. He would kill them mercilessly, in the cruelest and most amusing way his mind could imagine. But for now, he was fine just like this, creating some panic in a too peaceful city._

_He had just sent two trees against a group of astonished policemen when Stark had found him._

_All around himself, he could hear the terrified screams of the Midgardians, the crash of the branches hitting the buildings nearby, the heavy, crackling steps of his new and temporary minions._

_After his fall, the thing with the Chitauri and the days spent hidden on Midgard to heal from the injuries sustained during his escape from Asgard, he had forgotten how much more pleasurable it was to use magic just for his brand of fun._

_Avoiding a couple of trees, Stark appeared in front of him._

“ _I thought that after your shameful defeat, you would have known better than to attack the Earth again”._

_He gifted him a toothy smile._

“ _Attack? Why, I'm here just to do some sightseeing”._

_When Stark suddenly lifted a hand, he was ready: the blast hit his illusion while he took advantage of the mortal giving his back to his real self to attack him with a stab of magic._

_Stark took the hit well and attacked him again with two blasts of white energy from his gloved hands._

“ _You should hurry with your evil-lord monologue because the big guy will be here in a few minutes”._

_Loki tried to hit him with his scepter after having teleported to his side to avoid the blasts._

“ _The big guy?”._

_Stark blocked his scepter with his arm._

“ _Big green monster, terrifying strength, he destroyed an entire floor of my tower with your face... does it ring a bell?”._

“ _It just reminds me not to throw you out the window when I want to get rid of you”, he answered, before slamming the mortal against one of the motionless trees._

_With the trees on his side and his magic at full power, he only needed a couple of minutes to subdue the mortal. He stepped slowly towards him, the smile still on his face. Stark was on the ground, unable to stand. Loki's last attacks had destroyed the contraptions on his foot which allowed the mortal to fly and even his helmet was damaged and it missed the frontal part._

“ _On your knees already? Without any dates?”, he said smirking at the defeated Avenger, remembering the words Stark had told him during their last fight._

 _Stark wiped some blood off his face with the gloved hand. Then, he looked at him in the same way he had done when he was_ threatening _him and offering him a drink._

“ _Actually, I'm on my butt”._

_It happened then, with the mortal at his feet, panting from the pain and the effort but with the challenging stare still clear in his eyes. Loki realized he didn't really want to kill him now. He restrained his magic, which had been ready to strike for the last time, and lowered the scepter._

_This time, he wasn't sparing Stark's life because he was too wounded and exhausted to kill him and then teleporting before the arrival of agents Barton and Romanoff, like it had happened during their last fight. This time, he was sparing him because Stark made him curious in his regards. The way he retorted at every gibe and his ironical replies were amusing and he was one of the fewest people that could and would challenge Loki verbally other than physically._

_Loki didn't forget his strange immunity to Thanos' scepter either, which was another point of interest._

_And he had to admit that Stark's wit was remarkable even for a god._

_He was the only Midgardian Avenger who had really caught his attention. Banner was a craven, unable to use the monster hidden inside his body to obtain a power which was perfectly within his grasp. Thor and Rogers were oafish and idealistic, they didn't know the darkest parts of life, the deepest abyss where someone's mind could be buried – “no, Loki”, and the dark had swallowed him whole without spiting him out, marking him forever while he fell and fell and fell..._

_Barton and Romanoff were assassins, they weren't heroes. They were paid on someone's blood and death and didn't believe in foolish honor or childish principles. But they were soldiers, simple pawns who obeyed to someone higher in ranks than them, and didn't deserve his full attention._

_Stark was different from everyone of them. Despite being a mortal, he was_ interesting _. And before killing him, Loki would manage to know him, to know all his secrets, all the mysteries hidden behind his armor. And then, he would break him, enjoying the sight of the arrogant mortal bent to his will and utterly defeated._

 

 

The rustle of the old pages was the only sound in the room. His eyes browsed fast line after line, searching for the spell he needed to complete the new defense for his house. Even if he hadn't opened that book for a century, he knew the runes he was looking for were somewhere in those pages.

He had already spent a couple of hours sitting on the bed with one of the heavy books on his legs but he didn't feel the need to stretch his muscles and to take a break. His lifelong studies of sorcery had gotten him used to spending even days without moving, while reading those ancient tomes.

He didn't need to lift his gaze from the book to feel Stark's eyes focused on him.

The delight in having found the Avenger where he had obtained the Tesseract shard, had long vanished. Stark was already broken, he was nothing like the arrogant and interesting enemy he had enjoyed defeating in the past. Now, he was just a mute shadow who kept his eyes on the floor and didn't even try to attack him or to escape. He didn't speak, which was unbelievable, since Loki hadn't thought it possible for the mortal to keep his mouth closed even if his life depended on it.

He glanced at him. As soon as he met his gaze, the mortal lowered his eyes.

It was irritating, because no one should have been able to break one of his toys.

Two days ago, Loki had been so frustrated with his prisoner that he had almost killed him. When he had kissed Stark, both to suppress his urge to end his life and because of an instinctive impulse, the mortal had showed a satisfying reaction.

It had been just for a few seconds, but when Stark had refused him, Loki had seen into his eyes a storm of emotions instead of the usual resignation. The mortal was still there, somewhere, Loki just had to learn how to reach him.

He hadn't been able to make him talk, though, and that was what frustrated him the most: even if his voice was annoying and disrespectful, it was the particular trait that had made the mortal worthy of his attention. If Stark remained silent, he wouldn't have any reasons to keep him alive.

He gave him one last glance, before returning to his book. After a few more pages, he found what he was looking for: a powerful spell which would strengthen his house's defenses, keeping it safe and completely unreachable from the Midgardians and maybe even from Thanos.

During the last few days, he had been too busy renewing and improving his defenses, but now he had already cast the protective spells upon every wall and room. He had just to write the runes of this last spell, and then he wouldn't have any other distractions.

Then, he would have all the time he wanted to force the mortal to talk and to decide to kill him or to play with him a little more.


	18. Chapter 17: The hard way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, the kudos and the bookmarks, I love knowing what you think about my story! And special thanks go as always to my beta Sara, for her help and her everlasting patience.
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: Addictional spoiler warning in the notes at the end of the chapter.

**Chapter 17: The hard way**

 

He was once again on his knees on the cold floor of the living room. Loki was so angry that Tony could feel his gaze burning even without looking at him.

It was a strange thing because during the last few days, Loki had barely looked at him, spending all of his time reading or disappearing into the room Tony wasn't allowed to enter. Usually, the god sat on his bed with one heavy tome on his legs, remaining motionless for hours. He only moved one hand to change pages but he didn't stretch, he didn't change position, he didn't take a break to have something to eat or to drink.

Some other times, Loki materialized an old, black journal where he took quick notes that made Tony more curious than he would like to admit to himself.

During the rest of the time, the god was away, probably plotting one of his evil schemes.

Despite his threats, no interrogation had taken place. He didn't know if Loki was ignoring him because he was too busy and had other priorities or if the god had lost interest in him but, apart from some sporadic glances, it seemed like the god didn't even notice his presence.

And now that Loki appeared indifferent in his regards, thinking about the kiss, the god's lips pressed against his own, Loki's hand on his crotch, making him aroused and hard like it was one new, sweet way to torment him, seemed absurd. He almost believed it had never happened.

Now, he was living in a strangely calm routine, which was insane for a prisoner. As soon as Loki freed him from the chain, he went to the bathroom to have a long, warm shower. Then, he went to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast which he ate alone. He washed the dishes to occupy the time and to avoid thinking and he spent the rest of the day focusing on some math problems, on Jarvis and the way to improve his beloved AI, on whichever project wasn't related to the suit.

A couple of times, when the boredom threatened to awaken all the memories he wanted to escape from, he picked up one of the god's ancient books and tried to read it but it was written in an unknown alphabet.

After no more than a minute, he put the book exactly where he had found it because he didn't think Loki would react well if he discovered that his captive had pried around his spell books. However, a part of him was certain Loki would know it anyway.

If the god was in the house, Tony studied him while he was reading, sitting on the floor in silence and trying not to catch his attention. During one of these occasions, his need for some alcohol was so strong that he had almost talked to him, begging for a bottle of scotch, of whisky, of vodka – he didn't really care what kind of drink, he would accept everything that would silence his own thoughts. But in the end, he hadn't been able to bring himself to speak, so he had remained silent once more, ignoring his need and bowing his head until he stared at the floor, hoping to disappear in the nothing where his voice had drowned.

Despite everything, he managed to sleep better chained to the floor in the god's bedroom than when he had been Schmidt's prisoner. He hadn't had anymore panic attacks, maybe because his nightmares were less terrifying than usual. However, the night before he had dreamed about eyes too green which made him feel naked and lips pressed against his own and in the morning he had woken with a light taste of ice and mint in his mouth.

Contrary to the last couple of days, this morning Loki had stayed in the house even after Tony had showered. He had found the god in his bedroom, with one of the heavy tomes on his legs, so intent in reading it that it had seemed like he hadn't even noticed him.

Loki had been reading for hours before standing up, with a graceful movement nobody who had been still for such a long time should have been able to perform. Tony had stood too.

Following the god at a short distance, he had watched him enter room after room while, from his fingers, green streams of magic appeared. The god had then made some strange signs into the air next to the front door and the windows, and Tony had realized that it was some kind of protective spell. The energy coming from the god had been so intense that the air had seemed like it was made by pure electricity.

For a moment, Tony had wished he had some of his electronic equipments to analyze the magic but soon this last sparkle of interest died in his usual apathy.

A moment later, Loki had appeared right in front of him. Without a word, he had grabbed his hair, forcing him to kneel at his feet. Tony hadn't even tried to rebel and now he was still on the floor, while the god was towering on him, threatening and dangerous even without his armor, with a disappointed expression on his face.

“You know, I begin to find you boring, mortal”.

Tony didn't lift his gaze, tensing at the god's words but remaining still. Loki found him boring. After all his talking about vengeance and the threats, after the humiliation of making him sleep chained to the floor like he were an animal, Loki didn't seem like he was pleased to see him already broken. But Tony had nothing to say, nothing to reply to his irritation; even his ironical remarks, a distinctive Tony Stark trademark, had deserted him because he didn't care anymore about anything.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he could see the bodies all around himself – the suit too heavy, trapped by his enemies' weapons or maybe by his own horror; the laughter, the voices, _you're unworthy, you little heartless man who pretends to be a hero_ – and he felt like a part of him hadn't survived the fight.

Loki's hand grabbed his hair, pulling mercilessly to have his attention.

“Do you have anything to say, Stark?”.

Tony remained still and silent.

Maybe this time Loki would kill him and the idea didn't really bother him. It sounded absurd but Tony had loved his life, despite being so self-destructive. Even if he always found new ways to hurt himself, such as drinking way too much, flirting with the danger and deciding to be a superhero, he feared death. Or to be fair, he had feared death before Schmidt captured him.

In Afghanistan he had been scared to die every day. When Obadiah had taken his Arc Reactor from his chest, he had almost panicked. And he had truly been afraid when he was slowly dying with the palladium poisoning.

But now, thinking about his imminent death, he felt nothing.

A hard tug on his hair made him whimper, more because of the surprise than because of the pain. Then, he found himself close to the god, his eyes at the level of Loki's crotch and he understood immediately what was going to happen.

“If you are not going to use your mouth to talk, then you shall use it for another, more useful purpose”, Loki hissed, giving a second, hard tug on his hair, while his free hand went to open his black leather pants. 

This time, Tony tensed until he almost felt his muscles snap. He lifted his gaze towards the god's face, horrified by what Loki wanted him to do. He deserved torture and humiliation but this was too much. He couldn't accept it, he wasn't so broken to let the god use him like he were a whore.

“No!”, he screamed, shoving the god back with all of his strength.

His head hurt where Loki had tore off a lock of his hair and his voice sounded hoarse because of the disuse, to the point that he was surprised he managed to say a word instead of an inarticulate sound but he didn't mind.

What mattered now, was that he was free from the god's grasp and could put some distance between them. Breathing too fast, he lifted his gaze, searching for Loki's eyes, with a knot of anguish in the place of his stomach while he wondered how the god would react to his little rebellion. He was astonished to see a grin instead of a furious expression.

While he was still deciding what to do, if to stand up and face the god or to run from him, Loki took a step closer.

“Welcome back, Stark”. A dark satisfaction appeared on the god's face, together with his psychopathic smile. “It seems like the mortal was not able to completely break you”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Prelude to a non consensual blowjob (for the details: it doesn't happen, but it seems like Loki is about to force Tony to suck him off).


	19. Chapter 18: Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait. Fact is, my beta and I have been both very busy so I couldn't update until now. I hope this chapter won't disappoint you and I assure you that the next one shouldn't take so long. Thank you all for your comments, kudos and bookmarks, I'm glad you like my story and hope you'll still like it. And special thanks go as always to my beta Sara, you're too kind!

**Chapter 18: Rebirth**

 

_It was unbearable, the feeling of being consumed by energy. He had never experienced such agony before, not even when Erskine's formula was burning his veins and nerves, giving him an aflame skull as a face and a power that had made him closer to a god._

_And now, he was scared like he had never been before because he hadn't predicted anything of what was happening: not the fight in the plane against that foolish idealistic Captain Rogers, not his own defeat, not the Tesseract rebelling against his touch, melting his skin and his flesh in a bright blue light._

_He didn't know if he had screamed, if his lungs had managed to convey the sound of his agony or if he had just remained breathless from the pain; his mouth opened in a silent scream. The only thing he remembered was the sudden cold that had invaded his body until his lungs froze and his blood became like a thousand frosted needles under his skin. And then, even his thoughts froze._

_When he returned to consciousness, he didn't feel the pain anymore. His right hand was pulsing, though, like it had a second heart under the skin. As soon as he looked at it, he startled. There was a light blue layer on his palm, of the same color of the Tesseract. It covered his skin from his wrist to his fingers._

_He touched it with a shiver. It was smooth and cold but not in an uncomfortable way. Moving his hand, he discovered it was like a second skin, flexible and perfectly adherent to his palm._

_It was when he closed his hand into a fist that he felt the power: it was a sparkle of the purest energy, flowing into his entire arm and body. He had lost the Tesseract, he had lost his fight but it seemed like he had gained something infinitely more precious. Now, he really was a god._

_He couldn't hide a smile while staring at his own hand._

_Then, he looked around, wanting to know where he was. All around him, there were just cold stones. A weak brightness without a source lighted up the place, creating a ghostly atmosphere. There was no life. Above him, a starless sky was dark and endless, like a_ _threat_ _ready to fall upon his head. He only needed a glance to realize he wasn't on Earth anymore._

_He stood up with trembling legs. His body wasn't responding the way he wanted and when he decided to explore this unknown place, every step seemed like an unbearable effort. He managed to walk for a few dozen feet before he collapsed on his knees, too tired and weak to stand up again._

_He tried to anyway but his legs didn't obey him and he remained still, cursing the fate which had given him a power beyond any imagination but had left him in this place of stones and darkness to die._

_And then, anger was replaced by fear. An emotion he didn't think he would feel again after having abandoned his humanity for the Erskine formula._

_Then, Thanos arrived._

 

He was breathing.

A slow, wearisome breath after another. His lungs seemed like they were oppressed by a superhuman strength, since they couldn't work properly to take in the air he desperately needed.

The pain arrived a second later, deep and unbearable; burning in every limb, in every nerve of what should have been his body. He didn't remember having one, he didn't even remember who he was, all that existed were the pain and the darkness.

He began thinking. Confused thoughts, shattered memories, while he was struggling to remain conscious and to recompose his own identity.

He breathed again, searching inside his head for a glimpse of rationality, for something that would make him _understand_. But his mind was a whirl of blue, green and black and among these flashes of colors there was just one name, which sounded like a condemnation.

 

_Thanos._

_Thanos was killing him from the inside. His own essence was being shattered, broken into millions of pieces, so that the Titan could put them back together, rebuilding him as a new, stronger warrior._

_A pawn trapped in his hands, who would have been ready to do anything to leave that dead place._

 

The pain worsened while the memory of Thanos appeared in his mind, together with the terror the Titan had always induced among every living being. Destroyer of the Worlds, Death's Lover, the Mad Titan were only a few of the names he was known for and feared with. Thanos was the mother of all darkness and fears. He was the suffering and the pain which exceeded rationality. He was an enemy capable of annihilating someone with just a glance.

Even now, he was able to remember him so well, huge and terrifying, while in his mind he was still looking for his own name.

 

“ _Only a few are able to arrive alive in my_ _realm_ _. What is your name, mortal?”._

_His voice was digging into his soul, his mind already broken by the Tesseract was being dismembered by mere words._

“ _Schmidt”._

_Thanos' eyes were like two wounds spilling darkness. He found himself unable to breathe while the Titan studied him from head to toe, before focusing on his right arm and on his hand balled into a fist._

“ _You have something I desire, Schmidt”._

 

Johann Schmidt.

Trusted man of the Führer. Superhuman warrior, future god who would be able to make all humanity kneel at his feet.

He gasped for air, his throat too dry to let him swallow, while his life was recomposing itself one memory at a time.

He was again with doctor Erskine and his formula was burning his veins, making him superior to the normal human beings. Then, he was fighting against Captain Rogers, mocking his foolish idealism. He was being consumed by the Tesseract for a second time before being swallowed whole by the abyss and falling into the void. He trembled again at Thanos' feet, swearing to obey him just to have a chance to return to Earth. Again, he managed to capture Stark, pleased and satisfied in having broken him so completely that the genius didn't even speak anymore.

Again, he fought against Loki from Asgard and his nerves began to burn in agony.

 

_The Asgardian's magic was worse than fire, worst than the burning of Erskine's formula – he was being consumed by the energy like it_ _had happened with the Tesseract and no, not again, not another time, that unbearable pain._

_It was a power that could erase his existence in the blink of an eye, in the testament of how far he was from the power of a real god._

_And his stare, his crazy green eyes, was terrifying. They were the eyes belonging to someone capable of condemning a whole planet just for their desire, without truce nor mercy. They were eyes belonging to a being who had suffered the same torments he had but who had managed to maintain himself more whole than him._

 

Suddenly, he felt cold.

He felt frozen.

He couldn't breathe anymore, not with the feeling of his blood freezing in his veins. His last, too long perception before his death.

 

_The green was bleeding away, replaced by eyes with the same red of blood. The cold of_ _a thousand winters hit his bones, caging him in a frozen prison where his mind would forever be prey for pure agony and complete darkness. And then, the cold killed him._

 

He opened his eyes, before he even realized he had them. He was wheezing, his heart was hammering against his ribcage and his chest was full of fear.

_He had defied a god._

He shook his head, like he tried to escape from these memories. But he could already feel again his own weakness and helplessness against the Asgardian, his arrogance destroyed by the realization of how much he had underestimated him and how much it would have cost him.

 

_His enemy was a god, was invincible, was terrifying in his wrath and in his folly, and he had dared to defy him and now the Asgardian's green power was corroding his flesh and he couldn't breathe, and he felt only pure fear, because soon he would be dead, he would be ashes and green smoke and a lingering scream..._

 

He forced himself to breathe more slowly. He had to regain control, that self confidence he lacked since the incident with the Tesseract and the meeting with Thanos.

He didn't know how, but he was still alive.

His eyes looked around his surroundings but couldn't focus on anything. And his body was heavy and unresponsive. He lowered his gaze, struggling to escape his dizziness. He was naked, on what seemed like an operating table. Only a paper sheet covered his hips and legs. On his chest there were several electrode attached and it seemed he was under IV therapy.

He tried to call for his power but what answered was a void so deep, he shifted his gaze looking for the light blue of his palm.

He suddenly flinched, at what he saw: the Tesseract shard wasn't there anymore, he had lost his whole arm. He touched the stump that had replaced his limb with trembling fingers, horrified to realize he wasn't whole anymore. He couldn't believe he had lost his arm, his pride, his power in a single fight without even remembering it but his fingers met a confirmation to his horror.

And then, he began screaming.


	20. Chapter 19: Waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments, the bookmarks and the kudos, I love to know what you think about my story! And special thanks go to Sara and her precious help as my beta, thank you very much!

**Chapter 19: Waking up**

 

It had only been a word. One syllable. Two letters. And it had changed everything.

Not only had he avoided a humiliation he would never be able to bear, but in his mind, something had begun to function again: it was like his thoughts had been frozen in a limbo made of guilt, self hatred and despair, and his 'no' had broken through his apathy to let him think again.

He still hated himself for his weakness and his stupid arrogance; the children's faces still haunted him with their usual intensity and he knew he deserved only hatred and contempt. But, with his rebellion, he had realized he still cared about himself, his life, his dignity. He wouldn't allow Loki to use him as he pleased, nor would he accept to be wounded so deeply he wouldn't be able to heal. It seemed like somewhere he still had a glimpse of self-respect and now, he was ready to fight to defend it.

It had been a beautiful discovery, which had brought him an unthinkable amount of relief.

For the first time since Schmidt, he felt alive.

He looked at the bedroom he was in like it was the first time he saw it. His shoulders weren't bent anymore and he could breathe without feeling the unbearable pain of the unfairness of his own existence. The torture's signs were slowly disappearing: now, he could stand up and walk and touch his body without hissing from the pain and his movements were a lot smoother than before. After having eaten some nourishing meals, he was beginning to regain weight and he felt overall a little stronger than when Loki had first brought him here.

Even though his mind was still dizzy and confused, too full of emotions to find a balance, he felt the urge to act, to move, to use the muscles that had been still for far too long.

He went to the hallway, looking around with a suspicious gaze, his whole body tense.

The god had disappeared after his amused comment, leaving him surprised and incapable of reacting. He still didn't truly understand Loki's reaction or intentions. And it was even stranger to believe what had happened, because he would have expected everything from Loki – humiliations, torture, a slow and painful death, so spectacular he would never be able to anticipate it – but he never imagined he would be forced on his knees at the god's feet to appease something different from Loki's huge ego.

After all their past fights, he thought there was a sort of mutual respect between them: thanks to Jarvis, he had been able to gift to all other Avengers the DVD special edition of 'God of Chaos vs. Hulk', which had soon become 'God of Chaos vs. floor of Stark Tower', and Tony himself was ready to kill Loki, if he had to, but he would never capture him to give him to the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s branch that wanted to experiment on the god like he were a guinea pig. And Loki had always been a huge pain in the ass for all of them and tried countless times to hurt, maim and kill them; he had fucked with Clint's mind and tried to do the same with Tony's, but he had never attacked them from the shadows, with a surprise attack which would have killed them before they even noticed, nor had he taken hostages.

They were enemies, that was for sure, but Loki was nowhere near Schmidt or scum like him. Tony had always thought there was a sort of honor, in their antagonism – _and how many centuries seemed to have passed since that time of heroes and bad guys_.

He had taken for granted the fact that there were some boundaries Loki would not ignore, that the god had his own moral code. But he didn't know what the Asgardian ethic was regarding rape.

He grimaced.

If only he had been foresighted enough to ask Thor about the customs of his people, now he wouldn't being freaked out at the thought of Loki's return.

_Thor, do your people use slaves? What do you do with prisoners of war? Is it normal for you Asgardians to keep them chained in the bedroom and to use them as a mean of relieving the stress through a quick fuck, or is it a habit that only your psychopathic brother has?_

He shook his head to erase the ironic sound of his own voice, but his thoughts kept on replaying what had happened: the god's mocking words, his crazy smile, the hand that was slowly opening his leather pants, Loki's grip on his head, cruel and unmovable, and the way he had tugged at his hair, maybe because of irritation, maybe because of desire, maybe because the god just wanted to hurt him.

Now the fact that Loki had captured him and hadn't killed him assumed a new, darker meaning. The kiss, the lack of torture, even making him sleep chained to floor next to his bed could be clues of the sick interest the god had in his regard.

In another situation, he would take pride of that, realizing that even a god couldn't resist his charms. Knowing that a god desired him, would appease his ego more than the models, the actors and actress, the scientists and the Playmates he had had sex with. But the truth was the sole thought of being raped terrified him and froze him from inside, like an iced shower.

Tony Stark: genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Now a sexual slave to a psychopathic alien god with huge family issues. But he wasn't a philanthropist anymore – maybe he had never been – with all the blood on his hands. A true genius wouldn't have made that mistake. A billionaire had no merit.

It remained the playboy, who was so famous that his enemy wanted to use him as his personal slut.

Or maybe not. Maybe Loki was just fucking with him, to reveal his weaknesses and to destroy his defenses. Maybe he had only wanted to see what his reaction would be in that situation. And his last comment left him with even more doubts and anguish at the idea of what Loki wanted from him.

He kept walking aimlessly, like he could escape his own thoughts.

Just remembering how he had been on his knees, while the god was opening his pants, made him feel nauseous.

He had already been at the feet of a man, before. Several times, when he wanted something different from the usual pretty model, so he looked for a man instead of a woman. He had enjoyed making several men squirm and beg and moan while he pleasured them with his mouth. And he hadn't loved any of them, he hadn't even really known them, nor did he remember now their faces or their names. But it had always been consensual.

With Loki, the kneeling position had been horrifying.

Sure, he had had a sex dream with the god as the protagonist, but he used to dream about every person who was interesting or good looking enough to catch his eyes. And Loki was both. He had even thought about how it would be to fuck him – because Loki could be everything: bag-full-of-cats-crazy, psychopath, sadist, rapist wannabe, but he surely wasn't ugly or boring. He had thought about having sex with him especially soon after the break up with Pepper, when he had discovered that no other woman was appealing to him and he had spent several weeks bedding only men, so that he wouldn't think about her when he was having sex.

Not that he ever wanted to live this particular fantasy, since, even if Loki didn't kill him – and that was a really big if – Fury would imprison him in some dark cell and throw away the key. But he had already recognized that Loki was kind of hot, behind all his craziness and tons of daddy issues. And maybe his psychopathic side added a forbidden shiver that made the thought of having sex with the god even more exciting.

But even in his fantasies, it had all been consensual.

His thoughts began to suffocate him, so he went to the kitchen, following his urge to move. When he realized where he was, however, it seemed only natural to open the first drawer and to retrieve the same knife he had taken during his first day in the house. This time, he didn't put it back when he closed the drawer.

It wouldn't be of any use against a god, but it was a weapon nonetheless. He wasn't completely helpless anymore.

If Loki returned to abuse him, he would fight him.

He realized it with a warm feeling: even if he didn't deserve protection or salvation, even if he was unworthy of living, there was a part of him that wouldn't accept such humiliation.

He strengthened his grip on the knife, feeling well with his hand on a weapon and feeling even better to touch the testament of his will to rebel.

And for a moment, a fleeting smile curved his lips.


	21. Chapter 20: Shade of green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for this update. My beta and I are both so busy we barely have any free time at all. It's a short chapter, I know it, but I've almost finished to translate the next one, and I hope you won't be disappointed with this.
> 
> Thank you very much for your feedbacks and, as always, I thank Sara for her help!

**Chapter 20: Shade of green**

 

There had been four days. Four days spent looking for Tony, when hope and despair kept being intertwined and were all what they had been able to feel. Hope to find him alive, with his mind and body still intact. Despair of arriving too late, just to find a lifeless body or a broken man. And now, they were exhausted.

Among them, there were two assassins with years of training, there was an immortal god, there was a perfect soldier with superhuman abilities. But even people like them were beginning to suffer the continuous tension and the series of fake tracks and search after search without any successes. The uncertainty was the worst; not knowing how Tony was, was a nightmare, it was worse than a body to mourn for.

And now, they were all tired to the bone.

Their real breakdown had happened soon after the discovery of Schmidt's lair. In that place, they had found an empty, bloodstained prison that had remained in their mind like a torment, nourishing their guilt. If only they had been faster, if only they had managed to capture an Hydra agent earlier, if only they had made him talk in less time... too many 'ifs' which could never become true, because no one could change the past.

The truth was that they had arrived one or two hours too late and now Tony was who knows where, kept prisoner by Thor's crazy brother and he probably was being tortured, bent to Loki's will, or maybe already dead – and Bruce couldn't think about this possibility, because the mere thought of Tony being dead was enough to dangerously accelerate his heart and to paint his mind of the green that would engulf everything.

He closed his eyes for a moment, holding his breath and thinking about one of his favorite equations to keep the Other Guy's shadow away from him. He knew how to control himself, he had had years of practice in keeping his dangerous alter ego at bay. But he couldn't completely erase the hot rage that was pounding in his chest, together with a nameless fear. If Tony was dead, even he wouldn't be able to stop the Other Guy. Probably Banner would disappear forever, leaving in his stead only the green monster who would destroy town after town, because the loss of his best friend would be a wound too deep to bear.

He had known Tony for a little more than an year but, Betty aside, the bond he had with Tony was his most precious bond and the billionaire himself was the most important person in his life.

Before meeting him, Bruce had been sure he was condemned to a life of solitude and always on the run. Tony had shown him how it was to have a home and some friends to return to. To have somewhere he belonged to. Tony had been the only one to stay close to him from the beginning, when even Natasha had been tense and cautious in Bruce's presence.

Sure, now Natasha, Steve, Clint and Thor were his friends, something precious he hadn't had for a long time. Their friendship had born slowly and then had become deeper step by step after they got used to relaxing in his presence and began trusting his self control.

But Tony had been his first friend. He had always been there for him, since their first meeting and he had never been cautious with him – actually, Tony tried to awaken the Other Guy every other day, when he was bored. Behind the selfish mask of an arrogant billionaire, Tony was the kindest person he had ever met. Of course, the kindest in his own way.

Tony had always refused to act like Bruce was a walking threat to everyone and he was sure that the billionaire's behavior had been the reason that made him approachable to the other Avengers. It was thanks to Tony that he had changed from lethal threat to their friend.

And now, Tony wasn't there anymore.

He took a deep breath while trying to be as unnoticeable as possible. He kept the air in his lungs, counted to ten and exhaled slowly.

After four days of restless and desperate searching for Tony, they had exhausted every hint, every trace, every sign of Loki. They had searched every possible place where Loki could be hidden that had been recorded in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database during the last year of fighting against him. And now, in the last debriefing which had ended a few minutes before, Fury had officially ordered them to stop looking for Tony and to keep their eyes on Doom, since it seemed like the mad Latverian villain was preparing for an attack.

Steve had violently opposed Fury, and the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director had just dismissed his protest with some harsh words.

Bruce hadn't protested.

He had just tightened his fists, controlling his breathing and noticing Clint's face, as tense as his bow string, Thor's grip on Mjolnir, so tight it seemed like his hand was one with his hammer, and the way his shoulders were bent like they were crashed by an unbearable weight; and Natasha's expression, which was unreadable as always, but which had seemed like it was more cold than usual.

For the first time since Schmidt's retrieval, they were all together, in one of the rooms of the Helicarrier, with nothing to do and nothing they wanted to speak about. Tony's absence was a painful silence that oppressed all of them.

Thor was a dark, silent shadow of his former self. He was standing still, at the edge of their group, his hand tight on Mjolnir and his eyes fixated on who knows what memories. Bruce was so used to being the spectator of their little group, sitting on a lonely chair which was a little faraway from the others, that had realized immediately how distant the god had been during the last days.

Clint was cleaning his bow for the seventh time; his lips were bent in a grimace and his eyes refused to meet the others' gazes.

Natasha was completely still. She had her arms crossed over her chest and would seem a beautiful statue if her chest weren't slowly moving at the rhythm of her breath. After sparing a glance towards each of them, Steve was staring at her, like he were looking for some words to interrupt the silence.

“Do you think that Loki killed him?”, he finally asked her, giving words to the fear that all of them were carrying inside their minds.

Natasha didn't change her expression while she was reflecting on Steve's question.

“No”, she answered after an instant of silence. “If Loki had killed him, he would have let us know or showed us his body. Stark has to still be alive”.

Thor nodded. He seemed about to speak, but before he said a word, the big screen on one of the walls suddenly turned on, showing the strict face of Fury.

“Schmidt has just woken up. Romanoff, I want you in his detention cell on the second floor”, Fury ordered, before the screen switched off again without waiting for Natasha's answer.

Bruce shifted his gaze towards her, like the rest of them. The Widow didn't say anything but had a merciless smile which was more eloquent than any words.

Soon they would have their answers.


	22. Chapter 21: In the depths of his mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is the new chapter! It's a bit short but it's completely focused on Loki and Tony so I hope it won't disappoint you. Thank you so much for the feedbacks and special thanks go to my beta Sara!

**Chapter 21: In the** **depths** **of his mind**

 

He had perceived a puny presence among the Yggdrasill roots next to Midgard, where he was heading after the mortal's refusal. One of the Chitauri had lost himself into the Void, and that had been a mistake it had paid for dearly: without any real efforts, Loki had managed to catch him and had torn him to pieces, to pour out on him all his rage of having become a prey to be hunt. It had been a gratifying show, a mix of hatred, terror and pain that had made him feel powerful.

When he had become tired of his dying victim, he had consumed it with his flame, with the silent promise to do the same with the Other. Then, he had returned to his home, still invisible thanks to one of his concealment spells, curious to see what the mortal was doing after that little rebellion that had made him talk again. And he was there even now, with his arms crossed over his chest and a little smile on his lips while he watched Stark opening a drawer and taking the same knife he had taken some days before.

He studied him for a couple of minutes, waiting for another broken laughter full of craziness and despair, but when Stark strengthened his grip on the knife like he was ready to attack instead of using the weapon on himself, Loki erased his invisibility spell to reveal himself.

“Do you not feel ridiculous having to face me with a mere knife?”, he said from behind Stark's back.

The mortal startled and immediately turned around to meet his gaze.

“I wanted to build a suit but couldn't find a screwdriver”.

It was a pale imitation of his usual arrogant tone and possessed nothing of his irritating self confidence, but it could be listed as a satisfying beginning after the last few days when the mortal had been mute and apathetic. Loki didn't find any difficulties in ignoring the frailty hidden in a voice that had just been a little more than a hoarse murmur.

“And do you seriously believe that with your suit you would have a chance against me?”, he asked, taking a step towards him.

Stark shrugged, but continued keeping the knife between them.

“You give me the tools and the materials I need, and then we'll see who's right”.

Loki smiled at him.

“Why should I lose time for a meaningless fight when I already know the obvious result?”.

He snapped his fingers and Stark found himself grabbing the air instead of his weapon, since the knife was now in Loki's hand. The god put it back into the drawer without receiving any answers or any attacks, despite having his back turned on Stark. When he turned back to face him, however, he appreciated the look of rage and anxiety on the mortal's face. It was a big improvement since the last few days, when Stark showed no emotions and seemed resigned to die.

Again, he felt the deep curiosity of wanting to know what had happened to him to make him so broken. He could extort that information with torture, he could tear some answers from him as easily as he could tear his mortal flesh from his bones. But torturing Stark before he completely returned to his former self could make him return to that boring mortal that had been annoying him for the last couple of days and Loki didn't want that. He returned to his bedroom, looking for one of his books.

He was surprised to hear Stark's steps behind him. It seemed like his captive was maintaining some distance between them and was cautiously following him but hadn't remained in the kitchen and hadn't taken the knife again, in what was maybe his first sensible decision since Loki had known him.

Even when he began skimming through the last pages of his book, the suspicious eyes of the mortal didn't leave him. As soon as he found the spell he was looking for, he studied the runes for some minutes and then closed the book and turned his attention to Stark.

“Can you please stop looking at me like you were a sacrificial maiden waiting to be deflowered?”, he said. “It is a gaze that does not suit you at all and I find it deeply offensive that you do not consider me to be able to find a person who is willing to have a sexual intercourse with me”.

Stark grimaced.

“Considering that not long ago you had me on my knees at your feet, and not to satisfy your megalomaniac side, I find your protest a little hypocritical”, the mortal reply, with his voice between an accusation and a hard sarcasm.

Loki rolled his eyes, sighing.

“Stark, do me the favor of using your brain. Despite my loathing of admitting it, you are not completely lacking in the intellectual area, on the contrary of your companions, so please, do not be idiotic at all cost”. He looked at him like he would have done with a particular slow child. “Do not you think that if I wanted to _rob you of your innocence_ I would have already done it?”.

“So it was just a bluff?”. Stark's voice was now losing all his uncertainty in favor of real anger. “Because, I have to say, keeping me on my knees while you're getting rid of your pants is not the best way to show your indifference in my regards”.

“Oh, you mean that? I only wanted to see how far you had fallen”. Loki got closer with a smile that showed his teeth, until he almost felt the mortal's too fast breath on his own face. “You see, Stark, I do not like when my targets are broken by someone else”.

The mortal tensed, and he could feel his every muscle so taunt, it seemed like it could snap at any moment. But Stark didn't recoil, nor did he lower his gaze.

“Should I feel flattered?”.

The palpable sarcasm of his words was a familiar perception. Loki found it almost pleasurable and, if there weren't a tension which spoke of fear in the Avenger's body, he would believe they were involved in one of their past fights.

“Yes, you should. There are not many mortals who had the honor of my attention”. He took a step back before Stark could reply. “Now that you have regained the ability to talk, you can tell me how your captor managed to make you so pitiful and broken”.

Stark paled and tensed even more, but his gaze was still showing a little more of the defiance he addressed him with during their past fights.

“Sorry, no intentions of telling you that, so you'll have to accept to remain with your sick curiosity”.

Loki laughed.

“What makes you think you actually have a choice?”.

With a sudden movement, he grabbed his chin, keeping Stark's head still without hurting him. Then, his magic answered his call and flew into the mortal, following the spell Loki had read just a few minutes before, and Stark's mind opened before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please, let me know what you think about it.


	23. Chapter 22: Going under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're wonderful, guys, thank you so much for your feedbacks! I really loved your reviews. I'll probably be able to update again before December ends, but for now I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter. Special thanks go to my beta Sara, thank you, darling, for your precious help.
> 
> Warning: Non-graphic depiction of children's deaths

**Chapter 22: Going under**

He was still on the battlefield. He was still fighting against the terrorists he had underestimated. _He was still Iron Man_.

“Jarvis, are you ready to get rid of the bad guys?”.

Inside his helmet, he could see all the terrorists marked as red targets, while the children were marked with the less menacing civilian blue.

“Of course I am, Sir”.

“Good. Then why don't we show the Nazi grandpa some of the newest technologies of this century?”

He smiled when he felt the suit loading the winning shot.

Schmidt was smiling too but Tony wasn't worried: villains like that were always arrogant until the end, even when they were about to be defeated.

“I suggest you to not do that”, the Nazi said.

Like such a boring threat could stop him. He was Iron Man, he was Tony Stark, a genius above everyone even among enemies so dangerous and powerful that Fury and the S.H.I.E.L.D. were keeping tabs about them. He was unstoppable and he would win again, as always.

“Sorry, but I'm not used to following my enemies' advices”, he replied, with a shrug.

And then, he released the blast.

 _And then, Iron Man died_.

He already knew what would happen: the terrorists would drop down like flies, like it had happened in Gulmira, the children would be rescued, unharmed, and their families would thank him for that; hell, even Fury would begrudgingly thank him and admit he had done a spectacular job as a superhero. Then, he would be interviewed by some pretty journalist who would love to spend the night with him and another victory would be added to the hundreds he had achieved since he had become Iron Man. Since he had created the only aspect of his life he could be proud of.

_Iron Man was the proof that Tony Stark had a heart, that he wasn't only an arrogant billionaire who enjoyed exasperating the people around him and sleeping with every model he met. It was the proof that Tony Stark could really do something good after having been the Merchant of Death for so many years._

He released the blast with his mind already focused on the good glass of scotch that was waiting for him at his home. But the ones who fell weren't the terrorists. At least, not all of them. The ones who fell, in a flash of blue, were the children.

_Why?_

He stared down at their little bodies, while his mind broke a little.

_Why them?_

His thoughts were frozen, like he couldn't overcome the sight of the hostages falling down while the enemies still stood, because it was a scene so wrong he couldn't believe it.

_It wasn't possible, things didn't go like that, now that he had become a hero._

“I warned you”.

Somewhere in front of him, Schmidt was talking. Tony heard his words but couldn't really understand them. He wasn't even listening to Jarvis, whose familiar voice was filling his helmet. Now his helmet was suffocating him, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he had the children's voices screaming inside his head while they were dying and he couldn't stop them.

He trembled inside his suit, fighting against the urge to rip it off and send it away so that he could puke and close his eyes and be no more. Then, his gaze met a tear stained face, among the bodies of the dead children – _bodies too little, and why? Why did it happen?._

It was a girl, a girl with eyes too wide and some blood on her face, but she was still alive. And there was fear, in her gaze. She was scared. _Of him_.

“It seems like your weapons aren't as perfect as you'd like to believe”, Schmidt commented, so far away from his horrifying reality that Tony barely heard him.

There was another flash of blue light which hit him fully in the chest, because he didn't even try to move, and for a moment every information in his visor disappeared.

“Sir... fe... peak... energy”.

Jarvis' voice was broken and distorted, but he didn't answer. He didn't really understand what was going on either, because his reality had stopped in the exact moment when the children were falling down, screaming and sobbing, and the Nazi was laughing.

_Not again, not other faults to be burdened with, not some more blood staining his hands, not after Yinsen had allowed him a second chance, showing him that his life could be more meaningful than the emptiness of alcohol, cars, arrogance and models whose name he didn't even know._

He tried to move, tried not to think of the children's horrified faces, because there was a girl still alive and he had to save her.

 _At least her_.

But his suit was so heavy it felt like it didn't belong to him anymore.

What remained of his rationality realized that the last hit had disabled his suit. Probably Schmidt was in possession of a contraption which could create a strong electromagnetic field, maybe something a lot more advanced than normal weapons, since it was able to affect Jarvis. But he had some countermeasures to that, he had created them when he had created Iron Man. He just had to return to his senses, to think like he used to, to _do something_ instead of standing still.

_Bodies too little all in front of him. And he was the culprit, he had killed them, he was still the Merchant of Death even when he pretended to be a hero._

Again, a blue light blinded him. And then, he was on the ground, while the lights inside his helmet disappeared together with Jarvis' voice.

“Iron man... help... me”.

It was the girl. He managed to lift his face plate, looking at her pale face. She had called him. Even if she was afraid of him, even if she had seen him hit the other children.

And Schmidt was coming closer to her, a gun in his hand.

It was then, that Tony shook the shock off his mind and tried to get up and to fight again; too late, because his suit was dead.

“Don't do it, you son of a bitch!”.

Schmidt pressed his gun against the girl's head, smiling at him.

“It's a pity to find out how much our arrogance is misplaced. Isn't it, Mister Stark? Sometimes, a hard lesson is the only way to learn”.

And then, he pulled the trigger.


	24. Chapter 23: Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for this update and happy New Year to everyone! Thank you so much for your feedbacks, I loved your comments and kudos. As always, special thanks go to Sara, for her precious help.

**Chapter 23: Answers**

 

Schmidt smiled, showing his teeth in what seemed more like a grimace than a welcome.

“I knew they would send you, Captain”.

He was the relic of what once had been a man. And not because of the red skull he had as his face, like something was still burning beneath his skin; not even because of the stump he had where his right arm should have been. It was Schmidt's gaze which qualified him as a defeated warrior who couldn't even hope to heal or to achieve redemption.

Steve couldn't help but to silently stare at his nemesis with a knot in his stomach, because seeing an enemy who had been so powerful and dangerous now almost broken was a surprise that didn't make him feel good. Instead of smiling, he was wondering which new threat could have annihilated someone of Schmidt's caliber.

“Then you should also know the reason why I'm here”, Steve said, trying to hide his uneasiness to behave like the self confident leader he had to be.

He had insisted to be the one who would interrogate Schmidt in place of Natasha, and even the Widow had supported his decision, saying that the Nazi would be easier to read if he was facing the man who had already defeated him once. Now, however, even if Steve knew that his friends were just outside the room, watching the interrogation through the one-way mirror, he felt distraught, like he hadn't been injected with the Erskine's formula and had just received another refusal from the army.

Schmidt shifted in his seat, but his eyes remained fixated on him even when the reinforced manacles that bound the only arm he had left to the desk between them clattered in the silence.

“You want answers”.

Steve nodded.

“Are you going to talk?”.

Schmidt sneered, but his amused eyes couldn't hide the truth: something inside him had been broken, leaving him unable to heal completely. He had rebuilt himself like the crazier, more sadistic version of his former self, but now he was a nothing but a shadow.

“Do you really think it would be so easy, Captain?”. Schmidt shifted his gaze, focusing on the wall where the one-way mirror was hidden. “Why don't you invite your companions here?”.

Steve felt his uneasiness intensifying because his old nemesis was too calm and too in control of the situation, despite being the prisoner. The strategy and the combat were his forte, he was determined and loyal, ready to follow his belief until the end; but here, in the interrogation room with his old enemy who was so different from the last time he had fought him, Steve missed Natasha's composure and cold rationality.

“Even if there were someone else near here, what difference would it make?”, he asked, without admitting that the other Avengers were just outside the door.

“I'll talk, Captain, and I really have _a lot_ of things to talk about”. In Schmidt's red face appeared a mockery of smile. “But I don't like being watched by someone through a mirror if I can't watch them back”.

Before Steve could reply, the door opened. They all entered: first Natasha, with her arms crossed over her chest and a blank expression on her face; behind her, Clint, without his bow but with his muscles tense and ready to snap if there would be the need for a fight; then, Thor, with Mjolnir in his right hand and the same tired gaze he had been showing since his return to Earth. And last there was Bruce, pale but without even a glimpse of green; his eyes showed the strain of fighting endlessly against the Hulk, because, since Tony had disappeared, it had always been harder for him to control his alter ego.

Fury wasn't there but he was probably watching everything through a monitor in the control room, together with agent Hill.

The room was now crowded with dangerous people who would have had the means and the will to kill him, but Schmidt seemed perfectly at ease.

“It's such an _honor_. All the Avengers are here for me. To interrogate me”. He studied each one of them, meeting their gazes without showing any fear. Then, he grinned, like a mocking skull. “All apart from mister Stark, obviously”.

Behind himself, Steve felt Bruce's breathing becoming deeper and forcefully regular, similar to when he was meditating and trying to control the Other Guy. The more he knew Bruce, the more he couldn't help but to admire his control and his determination; he didn't know how a man with a huge, enraged monster inside himself, could react to such provocations with an admirable composure, while he had already clenched his fists because of Schmidt's words.

“What did you do to him?”, he asked Red Skull, with a voice he hoped it sounded cold and collected. “We know you were keeping him prisoner”.

Schmidt didn't really look at him, he just continued to stare at everyone of them, enjoying their reactions without missing any.

“Nothing he hadn't already done himself”, he answered, before smiling again. “ _Almost_ nothing, to be sincere”.

Steve tensed, while a hot rage was collecting inside his chest and was becoming more difficult to control at every second. The atmosphere full of regrets and anguish, in that room, was unbearable; it seemed like their failure in Tony's regards was slowly crushing them, and Steve in particular felt his shoulders sagging under an invisible burden – because he was their leader, _his_ was the fault, _him_ was the one responsible, the one to blame.

This time, Schmidt turned to face him directly.

“Oh, don't worry, Captain. He was still alive the last time I saw him”.

Steve couldn't find the worlds to retaliate with. It was in such times that he missed Tony the most, like he missed an arm or a limb or another part of his body, because now there wasn't anyone who would reply to the enemy with a mix of irony and threats, managing to always have the last word.

“What did you want from him?”.

“Stark had a remarkable brain, he could have been useful to me if he had bent to my will”. Schmidt closed his eyes for a moment, like he was enjoying some fond memories. “And, in the meanwhile, he was a good pastime”. He opened his eyes to smile at him. “How could I not enjoy slowly breaking an enemy of mine, who was also the son of another of my enemies?”.

Steve knew those were words deliberately chosen to hurt him, so he showed no emotions at all, like he hadn't heard them; but inside of him, he felt guilty because he had let Tony down and now Schmidt's mention of Howard was burning like an open wound. Even after years and decades, he would never be able to forget the past and move on. He was still suffering for everything he had lost while he had been sleeping in the ice.

“And where is he now?”. Natasha's voice was as hard as steel and colder than snow. Steve silently thanked her for her interruption, since now he remembered that this time he wasn't alone to face his old nemesis, nor was he alone to face the possibility of a fallen friend.

Schmidt shifted his gaze towards her with a glimpse of irritation.

“Mister Stark was my guest, it is true. But then, an unforeseen occurrence had us go separate ways”.

“An unforeseen occurrence like Loki?”.

It was just a fleeting moment, but Steve saw the controlled mask Schmidt wore cracking and revealing a grimace to hide his fear. And if he had seen it, then Natasha knew exactly where to hit with her words.

“He defeated you and took your arm”, she was already saying, with a sort of merciless amusement that wasn't far from contempt. “What did you have in your palm that Loki found so interesting he cut off your limb?”.

Even without watching him, Steve knew that Thor had strengthened his grip on Mjolnir, trembling with the urge to intervene, now that it was his brother the one they were talking about.

For a moment, Schmidt seemed like he was about to attack them. He clenched his remaining fist, tensing with his eyes full of hatred while he looked at everyone of them. Then, he breathed deeply and forced himself to relax, following what seemed a sudden decision.

He closed his eyes for a second and, when he opened them, they weren't full of hatred anymore. Now his gaze reminded Steve of what he had seen in some soldiers' faces, when they understood they had been defeated and decided to die bringing their enemies down with them.

“I had a new power, the Tesseract had gifted me with a part of itself. It was fused to my hand”.

Thor exhaled sharply, but Steve ignored him, just like he ignored his own heart beating far too fast in his chest. If Schmidt wasn't lying, then Loki was the one who now possessed that power. Loki, who already had another artifact and probably had Tony too. But it had been too easy: Schmidt hadn't even needed to be threatened to start talking.

“Why are you telling us this?”.

Again, Red Skull smiled an ugly smile.

“Would you rather torture me, Captain? Using pain to make me talk?” He shifted his gaze towards Natasha, widening his grin. “I can tell you everything because it doesn't have any sense for me to remain silent. Not anymore. Now, nothing matters”.

“What do you mean?”.

“Thanos is coming”.

Thor startled like he was hit on his face by that name.

“You are lying!”.

Schmidt's eyes showed an amused light.

“Oh, he'll come. He'll come for you, and for the Earth. But first, he'll come for the god who dared to betray him”. He laughed again, but this time it was a broken sound, born from sheer insanity. “Loki from Asgard failed him and for that he'll receive never ending pain”, he hissed, with such hatred that Steve shivered lightly. He had never heard Schmidt talking like that, not even when he had defeated him.

And then, a roar of thunder silenced every other sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, a chapter with no Loki and no Tony, I'm sorry. I hope it didn't disappoint you. Anyway, thank you for reading and please, let me know what you thought about it. Also, I just wanted to let you know that, if someone's interested, some days ago I published the English version of my FrostIron oneshot with some smut in it, since we're still not there with this story.


	25. Chapter 24: On the brink of insanity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter. For the good news: I've already translated the next chapter, so I hope it won't be long before I update again.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter for now. Thanks for all the people who read, follow and review my story, I love your feedbacks! And special thanks as usual go to my lovely beta Sara!

**Chapter 24: On the brink of insanity**

 

He was in Stark's mind and he felt like he was being sucked into his conscience without any means to stop himself.

He recognized the same incurable wounds the Void between the Realms had left inside himself too: deep, blooding scars in a soul that would never return whole again after having seen such horrors.

Stark's wounds were smaller, less hurtful than his, just a little hint to what Loki had experienced during his fall, because the mortal had seen just a glimpse of the emptiness and the horrifying darkness that lingered in the Void, the pure nothingness where only beings like Thanos, beings darker than the night itself, could hope to live and to grow. But he... he had almost been destroyed, his mind left in pieces during his eternal fall, and it had cost him all his strength and his determination to remain alive and with a functioning mind.

He took his gaze away from the scars in Stark's mind, looking for an answer to his question, until he found the memory he wanted. Like an invisible spectator, he watched the fight between the Avenger and the mortal with the Tesseract power. He watched the children dying, Stark being defeated, he felt his emotions, his deep sorrow and guilt, his regret, his self hatred, so intense he almost recognized himself in the exact moment when he had realized Odin's lie – he was too close to that horrible moment, it was too painful, he didn't want to remember, to be there, to relive the blue on his arms, the ice deep inside his skin, the crushing revelation of his true origins.

He went deeper in Stark's mind, trying to silence his own memories with the Avenger's ones. He wanted to know if Stark had surrendered only because of the fight he had lost, if he had stopped fighting before the tortures marked his body.

The mortal struggled in his grip, in an attempt at freeing himself from his grasp, like he was feeling too much pain to allow Loki further access in his memories.

And then, it all exploded at once.

Like a dam disintegrating under the pressure of the water it tried in vain to contain, Loki felt himself overwhelmed by what was hidden beneath Stark's arrogant facade. He saw flashes of his childhood, he saw some of his most painful memories, he saw fragments of his life in a continuous flux of images that had nothing to do with what he was looking for.

“ _Dad, look”._

“ _Not now, Anthony. I'm working”_.

Loki tensed, annoyed with his own loss of control of the spell while he was looking at a child with the same eyes Stark had and with a more genuine and sincere smile. A nine years old Stark, so enthusiastic and proud and innocent, trying to catch the attention of a man who wasn't even spending a glance towards him.

“ _I did it! I built it and it works! Dad, look at it”._

“ _Maria, take him away from me. He's bothering me”._

No, it wasn't what Loki wanted. He didn't care about a child ignored by a father who would never listen to him – Odin had never listened to him either, but Odin wasn't his father, he had never been.

“ _He wasn't my biggest fan. He was cold, he was calculating. He never told me he loved me. He never even told me he liked me”_.

Loki tried in vain to back out from Stark's memories and feelings that were overwhelming his own mind. They were digging into his never healed wounds, they were making him remember all the memories he so desperately had sworn to forget, because the words the adult, disillusioned Stark had spoken about his father were too familiar and too painful to bear and Odin's refusal seemed like it was burning his chest from the inside.

And Stark's mind was engulfing him like a viscous sea, he was drowning in someone else's memories without a chance to save himself.

And he was there when unknown men cut Stark open and began digging into his chest, he felt his own nerves screaming because of the pain and his lungs were frozen because of the fear and he was dying and his chest was open and all was pain, so much pain, only pain.

And he was there when Stark was drowning, when there were cruel hands on his nape and shoulders to keep him underwater and he felt a thousand frozen needles on his face and in his lungs when he began breathing the icy water that was all around his head.

And he was there when Stark was crawling with a hole in his chest, while his heart was forcing itself to keep beating and the shrapnel was tracing a burning path inside his veins, lacerating nerves, tissues and flesh.

_How could he?_

He withdrew from his mind, panting, and Stark collapsed on the floor.

Loki fought against the urge to touch his own chest, to make sure his fingers would meet the reassuring texture of muscles and skin and flesh instead of the hole he had seen – _he had felt_ – in the mortal's memories. With a shaky hand, he raised Stark's face, meeting the vacant eyes typical of someone who wasn't focusing on their surroundings but was trapped inside themselves. It seemed like the mortal had suffered the after effect of his spell more than what he had foreseen, but Stark was still breathing and his catatonic state wouldn't be permanent.

Loki let his face go without stopping to stare at him.

_How could a weak mortal bear all of that?_

 

 

They were all there.

His father, shaking his head with a sever expression and his face showing a contempt that was more painful than his usual indifference. Yinsen, with a defeated stare that made him look older; he had blood on his face and bowed his head without looking at Tony, showing how sad he was to know that his sacrifice had been in vain. The other Avengers, a group of crazy people Tony had risked his life with; they were his friends, but now they were staring at him like he was the worst of their enemies. Then Rhodey, who was looking at him with a deep disappointment, aiming at Tony with the very weapon he had created. Finally, there was Pepper; she didn't even look at him, showing him her back like she couldn't bear the sight of him. And, in front of everyone, there were the children, with their accusingly eyes that were burning into him like scorching blades.

Everyone was blaming him and he couldn't even close his eyes to make them disappear.

 _Go away. Please, go away_.

It was the mantra he had been repeating inside his mind during the time he was alone in his cell. That had been the real torture: not the whip, not the punches and the kicks, not the burning cigarettes pressed on his skin. Without any distractions, the solitude and the inactivity had worn him out, worsening the wounds inside his heart – but he didn't have a heart, that had been Pepper's lie, Tony Stark had lost his heart and hadn't been able to find it anymore.

The dark and the silence had been his worst enemies. In the cold cell, he had had nothing to do, he hadn't had a project to work on, nor had he had someone to talk to. He had been alone with his thoughts until they had become too much and all he could do had been waiting for his death and trying not to think.

He had erased his mind as much as he could, following some simple rules while lying on his abused body in the darkness: to think about nothing, to remember nothing, to hope nothing. It had been the only way he could alleviate some of his pain and guilt. Erasing Tony Stark so that he didn't have to suffer anymore.

Sometimes it had worked, sometimes it hadn't. But the short moments of dulled pain, when he didn't remember, were something as similar as peace he could find; his apathy was the only way he could defend himself from his memories.

And now, Loki's spell had erased even this frail defense of his. Now, his mind, which had been so blessedly numb for the last weeks, was being violated by all the memories he had tried so desperately to keep at bay. He was reliving his fight against Schmidt, he was reliving his guilt, his never forgotten pain, his desperation, and everything was so intense he couldn't even breathe.

_The children were down. The children. Not the terrorists._

The horror was invading his lungs, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think of something else, he was drowning in his own horror.

_Pepper loved children._

He felt sick, his stomach was twisting, making him want to puke, even if he didn't even know where he was, if on the battlefield or if in Loki's house.

“ _Don't do it, you son of a bitch!”._

_And then, Schmidt pulled the trigger._

He couldn't move, his suit had died with the flash of blue that had hit him fully in the chest and now was a useless coffin made of cold metal. But maybe Iron Man had died even before it, when he had killed innocent children because of his own arrogance.

And now, he couldn't breathe.

He had killed again, after he had stopped producing weapons for the government to avoid having innocent blood on his hands again. And this time, he had been the one who had pulled the trigger.

“ _I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them”_.

But that was worse. It was so much worse.

This time, he didn't have a way to save himself, to redeem himself, because he had failed as Iron Man. He had stained the only part of his life he could have been proud of. He had destroyed the only part of him that could have made him worthy after his years as the Merchant of Death.

The acrid smell of sweat and blood surrounded him and there was sand in his mouth. He smelled gun powder, hearing screams and shouting all around him, but nothing mattered because now he felt invincible against his tormentors and the feeling was so good he was euphoric. Inside his very first suit, he felt like a god while his damaged heart was pumping rage, triumph and adrenalin into his veins, before realizing what price he had to pay for his escape.

Yinsen was dying. He was dying now that they were about to be free. He was dying and he was saving his life, again.

“ _Don't waste it. Don't waste your life, Stark.”_

And for a while, he had really thought he hadn't wasted it.

He had built his suit to feel invincible, to never feel fear anymore. He had built it to save people and to redeem himself for when he hadn't been able to save Yinsen. And now, Schmidt had stained his suit with blood that could never be washed away.

Tony fell down, feeling like his skin was on fire, the guilt and the desperation burning his whole being like a merciless flame.

“ _Has a little pain been enough to break you, Stark?”_

He was kneeling again at Loki's feet and felt so empty he couldn't hear the sound of his own thoughts. In a sudden movement, the god's hand grabbed his throat and lifted him up, while his other hand was already on Tony's chest, scratching at the scars around the Reactor until they drew blood.

“If it is so, I have no reason to allow you to live. I will end your pathetic existence right now”.

It was a hiss more cruel than the ones he remembered and sounded like it belonged to a lot of different people. Tony lifted his gaze to look at the god and his eyes widened when he met several familiar faces around them.

_They were all there while Loki was tearing his Reactor from his chest._

_And no one lifted a finger to help him._


	26. Chapter 25: Burning rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an unbeta'd chapter, since my beta is very busy and I didn't want to make you wait any longer. So please, forgive me for the mistakes; I hope it's still readable. Update: this chapter has been corrected by Sara, so it's now beta'd.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and the kudos, they brightened my days! And special thanks go to Sara for her help. Enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 25: Burning rage**

 

Tony woke up panting.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he found himself in Loki's bedroom, which was familiar by now. There weren't any children, nor was there Pepper, or Rhodey or the Avengers. There was only Loki but the memories still hadn't left his conscience.

Inside his head, he was still fighting against them, against the ghosts he had fought day after day in the solitude of his dark cell, where Schmidt had been holding him.

At that time, the oppressive silence had worsened his desperation, because there hadn't been any distractions and all he had been able to do was think about his horrifying guilt. He hadn't had any alcohol to alleviate his anguish with, to muffle his senses and his thoughts with. But he had craved it more than death, more than a rescue, more than a night without nightmares. Even now, he felt too sober to bear his memories.

The awareness of what he had done – _the children's blood on his hands and their screams and Schmidt's laughter and his never ending horror_ – was so vivid it seemed like someone was putting a burning brand in the open wound in his chest. He needed some alcohol, some way to lose himself, to forget.

He stared at the god without moving or speaking. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that Loki was real and wasn't the ghost inside his mind who was about to rip his Arc Reactor out from his chest. The god wasn't even reaching for it, since he had both of his arms alongside his body. He was still taller, more dangerous and more concrete than he had ever been.

“What... what the hell did you do to me?” he asked Loki with a rough voice, like he had been screaming for hours, and maybe he had, deep inside his mind.

He was still tasting sand and blood inside his mouth, choking with the memories from Afghanistan and from his fight against Schmidt.

“You did not obey, so I took the information that I wanted in the most suitable and effective way”.

Loki's voice was angered, like he were accusing him. If Tony had been more in control of himself, he would have caught the warning in his words and the way the god was panting. But he wasn't in control, he was furious and desperate and in pain, and all he could think was that Loki was the one who had made him feel so awfully bad.

He stood up with trembling legs, hating the god more than the day Loki had tried to invade the Earth.

He was still weak because of the torture and the malnutrition, but his anger was burning his muscles and his chest and it granted him the strength to move faster than Loki or himself had anticipated.

“You, son of a bitch!”.

He was on him in the blink of an eye, tackling him with such violence he managed to make the god falter. He had already lifted his right arm to punch him – _I'll kill you, you fucking bastard, I'll kill you!_ – when Loki recovered from his surprise and threw him against the wall.

While Tony was struggling to breathe after the violent impact, Loki lifted his fingers and two dark chains appeared from nowhere, binding him to the wall with each arm on one side of his head.

“Remember your place, mortal”.

It was a warning and a threat, spoken with a low, dangerous voice that meant death wasn't so far away, but Tony didn't care. Not when every fiber of himself was screaming and burning with self-hatred after Loki had woken his worst memories.

“Fuck you!” His back hurt, his throat hurt, his whole body hurt and what he wanted the most was to be free so that he could rip the god's heart to shreds barehanded. “You're a damn coward!”

He was so furious he couldn't even find proper insults anymore. His wrath was burning his lungs at every breath, he was struggling against the chains without caring about the pain. He just wanted to feel the god's blood on his hands and to hush the accusing voices in his mind with Loki's screams of pain.

_How dare Loki violate his mind? To dig into his soul and to relive what he had tried so desperately to forget?_

While he was tensing in vain against the chains, shouting insults he didn't even understand, the god took a step forward, coming so close, Tony could see his furious, upset reflection into Loki's green eyes.

“Be silent, Stark, or I will silence you forever”.

_Like he could care about the crazy god's threats, after what Loki had done to him._

“Fuck. You”.

He barely realized that Loki wasn't looking at him with his usual pleased detachment.

There was the dangerous rage of a wounded animal inside his eyes and even his hectic movements were a sign that Loki didn't have his usual self control. Even through his own hatred, Tony could see an inexplicable resentment from the god.

And that only served to make him angrier.

_He was the one hurt, the one who had been violated. Not Loki._

“You didn't have the right to fucking rape my mind, you bastard! You're just a sad, little shit who is jealous of his good broth-”.

Loki's hand was suddenly on his throat in a bruising grip, muffling the end of his sentence. Tony could feel every finger pressing so hard on his skin that he knew he would show its mark for days. That is, if the god didn't kill him sooner.

He fought against his grasp, but he was livid, not scared.

Then, Loki strengthened his grip until he couldn't breathe anymore, and Tony found himself slowly losing consciousness.

But he didn't care.

At this point, he cared about nothing.

He didn't think he would ever want to kill someone with such intensity, in his all life. Maybe his tormentors in Afghanistan, maybe Vanko, maybe Hammer, that idiot that had put Pepper in danger with his silly jealousy and his absurd attempts at being better than him.

But now, he felt he needed to kill the god more than he needed to breathe.

_To dig his nails, his whole fingers into Loki's flesh, to tear him apart, to leave him lifeless on the floor. So that he could erase all of the memories that Loki's violation had awoken in his mind_.

Even Loki's hand on his throat hadn't any relevance compared to his own hatred.

He struggled once more, while his lungs burned and his sight was slowly becoming unfocused. He didn't care to die if he could hit the god just one time.

Guided by his instinct, he tried to knee him in his groin but Loki shifted to absorb the impact with his thigh and, to Tony, it seemed like he had hit a brick of marble.

Then, he didn't have the strength to fight anymore. Without the suit, he wasn't strong enough to break the chains and felt like he was a ruffled, growling heap of an empty shell that once had been Tony Stark.

Finally the grip on his throat became an insuperable obstacle for his will of remaining conscious to rebel again, and everything disappeared into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was short, but next chapter will be a lot longer than that and I'll try to update in a week or two at most. Thank you for reading, I hope it wasn't a disappointing chapter.


	27. Chapter 26: Just a drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I managed to update sooner! Thank you so much to everyone for the reviews and kudos, and special thanks go to my beta Sara for her help. I hope you'll like the chapter, enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 26: Just a drink**

 

Stark had never reacted so violently since he had caught him as a prisoner.

Loki lowered the chains and let him slide down to the floor when he noticed Stark had stopped moving. The mortal's eyes were closed but he was still breathing.

Loki took two deep breaths, trying to compose himself and muffling the insane rage that was burning inside his chest and was tempting him with sweet images of death and blood. Part of him still wanted to kill Stark because of what he had seen inside his mind.

It didn't matter that he had been the one who had forced the mortal to open his consciousness to him. Watching Stark's memories – _living them, like he too had his chest cut open and his mouth full of sand and was still trying to make an indifferent father pay attention to him_ – had been too painful for him. It had hit too close to his own wounds for his liking and the urge to erase Stark's existence was making his fingers itch. He couldn't bear the thought of a mere mortal with the same wounds he had – _a mortal who had seen the horror of the void and of the life, that maybe had managed to remain less broken than him_.

He swallowed something that tasted like bile in his throat. He shouldn't have lost his composure, showing his weakness.

The mortal's face was tense even in his sleep and his neck, over the fading mark of the collar, showed the exact imprint of his own fingers.

Now he knew what had broken Stark. Not his childhood with a father who didn't care about him, not the past tortures, not having his chest cut open, but the guilt towards some children he didn't even know. Somehow, Loki was disappointed to find Stark so weak. But he knew how it was to be on the top just to suddenly fall down in a pit so deep that there wasn't even the tiniest ray of light.

He had felt the mortal's triumph before the fight started, his certainty of victory, before everything went wrong.

It had happened to him too, more than once. He had felt the same triumph when he had hugged Frigga – his mother, he still couldn't think about her with the same resentment he felt towards Odin – after he had killed Laufey. When he had been the hero, before Thor returned, shattering his hopes of being the worthy – the _loved_ – son.

He had felt the same triumph after his plan succeeded, with Thor wanting a foolish vengeance on Jotunheim and Odin finally seeing his firstborn as the childish, immature and arrogant spoiled prince he was. It had been a moment of pure perfection, because he had finally opened his fake father's eyes on his favorite son, he had showed Odin, who had never listened to him, how right he had always been. Then, Odin had decided to exile Thor, and he had frozen inside like the Jotun's touch on his naked arm couldn't do.

It hadn't been what he wanted.

He still remembered his world shattering, his throat tight because of the consequences he hadn't foreseen. He had felt so young and lost, back then.

Thor had to be punished, his right to be king should have been revoked but he shouldn't have been exiled.

But that had been before the moment of absolute terror when he had seen the Casket contaminating his hands, arms and body with the monster hidden beneath the lies the All-Father had spelled upon his skin. Before the instant of pure and cruel truth when suddenly everything had made sense – why Thor was the loved one, the respected one, the perfect son who would have become king even if he was a spoiled, arrogant child; and why he was the one always so different and ostracized. The one so _wrong_.

He tightened his fists, before slowly exhaling the air he had been holding in his lungs. That belonged to the past, to his life before the fall. Now he didn't have to think about it anymore.

Staring at the mortal, he conjured a bucket full of water.

He didn't have the time nor did he have the patience to be gentle – not when the urge to kill Stark was still so present and vivid in his mind – but he wanted the mortal awake and ready to answer his questions, or at least to be a distraction from his unpleasant thoughts.

He moved a finger, and the bucket poured all the water down to the unconscious mortal.

Stark startled with a muffled scream, then he sat up, coughing and swearing with the same violence, panting like he actually believed he could drown in such a small quantity of water.

After lifting a trembling hand to run it on his face, Stark focused his gaze on him and for a moment, Loki found in his eyes, a fear so intense, he took a step back.

Stark didn't talk, he just remained with his hands closed into fists and his shoulders tense, like the morning when Loki had seen him waking up upset and terrified because of who knows what nightmare.

He wanted to unravel Stark's fears, to know if the night before that terrified awakening had brought him nightmares with the taste of sand and blood. But Stark wasn't actually clear headed. He hadn't stood up yet and was still sitting on the floor, with his back supported by the wall while he tried to slow down his breathing. He seemed like he hadn't even noticed that the chains had vanished.

“Alcohol”, Stark wheezed, with a rough voice that showed how much his throat was hurting after his last aggression.

“Alcohol? Is that your answer for everything?”.

“I want something to drink”. Stark took some deep, steady breaths, shuddering lightly. “Something strong”.

It was the first time Stark asked for anything and there was a sort of desperate need in his voice, but Loki could still feel the taste of the metal muzzle inside his mouth and the rage burning in his veins because of the humiliation, while the Avengers looked at him with derision in their faces and he had to pretend to be defeated, leaving Midgard as Thor's prisoner.

“And why should I grant your request? I enjoy having you so tormented. I find it... _relaxing_ ”, he said using the same word Stark had used when he was inside the transparent cage.

The mortal's eyes became two cracks full of hatred, but behind his deep, violent rage that Loki was tempted to worsen just to erase it a moment later with his own fingers, he could see a man who had been utterly defeated, an empty shell of what once had been a proud being. He recognized that defeated stare too well and something began aching inside his chest because he knew the pain that Stark's eyes weren't able to hide: they were the eyes belonging to someone who really tried, who tried so hard and so many times, but could do nothing but fail.

“I don't understand how Thor can still have any hope of redeeming you. I would be ashamed of having a brother that's such a monst-”.

Loki didn't allow him to finish that sentence. His own hand had moved before he realized it and he backhanded Stark hard. A moment later, he withdrew his arm, upset because of his lack of control. He hadn't hit the mortal with his full strength and he hadn't aimed to really injure him, but the mere act of hitting him had showed how Stark's words had affected him.

“Hold your tongue, mortal, or next time I shall decide to cut it off”, he warned him, still tensed because of what he had seen inside the mortal's mind.

Stark shook his head, trying to focus again. He slowly wiped off the blood from his mouth, where Loki's hit had split his lip. Then, he suddenly burst into a raspy laughter, which ended with a coughing fit.

“Do you really believe your threats could scare me? You've already violated my mind, there aren't many worse things you could do to me”.

Loki curved his lips and he knew it was a crazy smile but he couldn't help it, while flashes of Thanos and the void and the Chitauri, and Odin who revealed to him the truth just to refuse him later with only two words, crossed his mind all together.

“There is always something worse, Stark”.

The mortal rested his head against the wall. His eyes didn't show hatred anymore, they were just tired.

“Well, what are you waiting for?”.

The mortal didn't even have the common sense of standing up before defying him. He remained sitting down, like he was waiting for his own end and maybe he was so defeated he didn't want to fight anymore. Now that his rage had been muffled by his exhaustion and impotence against a god, Stark had become inactive again, challenging him with empty words.

Being so defeated suited his enemies, but Loki didn't feel actual satisfaction seeing the Man of Iron this way.

If it had been Romanoff, or Agent Barton, or the man out of time or the beast, Loki would have been delighted in savoring their desperation. He would have enjoyed breaking their minds and bodies, until they would be hopeless and defeated, so that all that was left was to dismember them.

But Stark was different. He would have wanted to defeat him with his own words, answering to his provocations with his own wit and breaking him personally. It should have been him who broke Stark, not a mortal so cowardly, he had hidden himself behind helpless children.

Now the thought that he had violated Stark's mind, leaving him to draw in that pain, didn't sit well with him.

After a moment, he lifted his fingers and on his palm appeared a glass half full with the alcoholic drink the mortals seemed to enjoy so much. Stark was silently staring at him, so he laid the glass on the floor within his reach. He was surprised when the mortal grabbed it without any hesitations and drank all the alcohol with a couple of sips.

With a shudder, Stark then closed his eyes and breathed twice before opening his eyes again, showing a livelier gaze.

“Is it poisoned?”.

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“Do you not think you should have asked me that _before_ drinking it?”.

Stark shrugged his shoulders, smiling sharply with his broken lips until he showed his teeth.

“Like you didn't have other means to poison me, if you really wanted to”.

He was less pale, now, like the alcohol in his drink had given him some life force and some energy. Without letting go of the glass, like he was waiting for it to become full again, Stark stood up with the help of the wall. His face now showed nothing of the apathy of the first days but it didn't show the irony and the defiance that had characterized all of their past fights either. With his free hand, Stark began massaging his sore throat, where Loki could recognize the imprint of his own fingers.

“Are you truly so weak?”, Loki asked him, making the mortal shifting his attention from the empty glass to him. “After all that you endured, you broke just because of some deaths you could not have avoided anyway?”.

For a moment, Stark seemed about to attack him.

“What do you know about their deaths?”, he growled, his entire body tense and ready to snap, while his expression had again become the hateful mask he had shown some minutes before.

Loki addressed him with a mocking smile.

“More than you know, as it seems. Those children would have died anyway, with or without your intervention”.

He remembered the sensation of horror and helplessness rubbed on his skin like it was a dense layer of tar, when Stark's consciousness had opened to his mind. The mortal was feeling guilty of those deaths, he had been horrified when the children had fallen down. But it seemed he had been too upset to notice what had actually happened.

“Maybe you would have been able to hinder your enemy, almost certainly you would have been able to escape, but you would not have been able to save those children. Even if not whole, the Tesseract is not a power a mortal can hope to overcome”.

 _Or to posses_ , he added mentally.

“Tesseract?”, Stark asked, while the rage in his face melted into a deep confusion.

Loki sighed.

“You fought against that mortal and did not know his powers?”.

“And you do?”. Stark's stare sharpened, showing nothing but mistrust. “What, you and Mr. Tan were best bros in the villain summer camp?”.

Loki smiled with closed lips, even if, as usual, he hadn't completely understood what Stark had said, because the mortal's voice was the same of their past fights.

“If you are suggesting I was an ally of that mortal, I am going to disappoint you”.

“Then why were you there?”.

“I shall tell you when you answer my questions”.

Stark pursed his lips without replying while his tense body showed his refusal and, at the same time, his waiting for a reprisal.

Loki stared at him for long seconds in silence. Part of him wanted to provoke him, to break him some more, to torture him until Stark began talking and to make him suffer so that he could enjoy his pain. But he also wanted to give him some break because a defeated, mute Stark didn't suit his tastes.

Instead of the mortal inside that shiny armor of his, with his arrogant smile always plastered on his lips and a too ready tongue always ready to spout insults, provocations and ironical replies, Stark was now a grotesque parody of a hero: his wet hair was stuck to his forehead, the unkempt beard made him look like a savage and his fingers were gripping the glass close to his chest like it was a shield.

There was still some blood on his face after the slap and around his wrists and neck there was still the mark of the chains and the collar. But his gaze was pensive. It was alive, not dead.

“Let me know when you are ready to talk”.

He turned his back on him without waiting for a reply.

During his trip into Stark's consciousness, he had discovered more than he thought he would. He still could taste the bitter, burning rage at the end of his throat for what he had seen and felt inside the mortal's mind, but now he had regained his composure.

There were a lot of things to think about, not least the conflicting emotions regarding Stark and his secrets. Focusing on some new spells in complete solitude would allow him to relax and maybe he could eradicate from his instinctual self the urge to kill the mortal once and for all.


	28. Chapter 27: Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for all the reviews and the kudos, you're too kind! And special thanks as always go to my beta Sara, thank you so much, darling! I hope this chapter won't disappoint you, enjoy the reading.

**Chapter 27: Burning**

 

He was still holding his empty glass.

The scotch's taste which lingered in his mouth was exquisite, after he hadn't been able to drink any alcohol for weeks. His throat was still burning a little, a feeling he had come to associate with some sort of consolation, and he felt invigorated and also grateful for that drink.

The only thing he could complain about was the fact that Loki hadn't granted him a second glass of scotch. But still, he was surprised that the god had shown him a little kindness.

He breathed deeply, then he startled when his aching throat sent a stab of pain to his mouth and lungs. After Loki had tried to choke him, he was so sore he couldn't even swallow without being in pain. For a moment, he had really thought Loki was going to kill him – not that he would care about it, since he had been so lost in his own anger that his life hadn't seemed like something important to protect.

He counted to ten, trying to focus on some other thoughts. He still wasn't ready to know if his life now meant something to him.

After leaving his glass on a bedside table, he stood up and went to the bathroom. At first, he cleaned his mouth and chin from the bloodstains, then, when he grabbed a towel to dry his face and his still wet hair, he met his own eyes in the mirror and froze.

There was a stranger looking at him through the mirror.

The unkempt beard was nothing like his trimmed goatee and there were deep wrinkles around his eyes. His cheeks were hollow, the eyes sunken and with black bags underneath. But most of all, it was his exhausted, defeated gaze that had made him look like a stranger.

If he was like this now, he couldn't think how he had looked when Loki had found him inside of one of Schmidt's cells.

He finished drying his hair with a shiver which was half rage and half anguish while he remembered the way Loki had woken him, when his conscience had been ripped from a comforting nothing by the sensation of drowning in icy water – _there was water everywhere, only water, always water, and he was choking while his lungs were burning_.

When he returned to the living room, there was no trace of Loki at all. The kitchen was deserted as well, so the god was probably inside his studio, the only door Tony hadn't had the chance to open yet.

He was alone, without anything to distract himself with, so he collapsed onto the couch, pressing his palms against his closed eyes to try to stop thinking. But his worst memories were still inside his head and began torturing him anew now that Loki had awoken them with his mind spell.

He took a deep breath, wishing the glass to be filled again.

In the end, it appeared the scotch hadn't been poisoned. He couldn't understand why Loki would have granted him that kindness without hurting him in return, or maybe Tony just hadn't discovered how a drink could turn into real torture yet.

Because Loki wanted to torture him, Tony was certain of it. If the god hadn't tortured him yet, it was only to let Tony torment himself in doubts and uncertainty, trapping him in an exasperating wait.

The pain would come anyway, but the hours, the days spent without anything to do and without any certainty about his own future were the real torture.

Thor's psychopathic non-brother wasn't the kind of villain who would care about his enemies' well-being.

“ _You would not have been able to save those children”._

He opened his eyes again, but instead of looking at the books on the shelf in front of him he was still seeing the children's bodies, dead and bloodied.

“ _After all that you endured, you broke just because of some deaths you could not have avoided anyway?”_

Loki had granted him something which sounded like absolution. The most similar thing to absolution Tony could hope for, and probably Loki hadn't even realized it.

The idea that those children would have died regardless didn't clean his hands from their blood but somehow made him feel better. He could breathe easily now, like his Arc Reactor didn't compress his lungs anymore.

It was a lie and he knew it, but it was a lie so beautiful he wanted to believe it if only for a little longer. And he was good at telling lies even to himself – _Tony Stark is a hero, is someone to look up to, a man who's worthy and it doesn't matter if his own father didn't even look at him while they were in the same room_.

The sudden urge to move made him stand up. He went up to the little library, looking at the ancient books on the upper shelf. Walking had been more fatiguing than what it should have been but he wasn't surprised, considering the rough treatment he had endured from Loki.

He focused his attention on the almost civilized conversation he had had with the god.

Loki had spoken about the Tesseract like it had had a correlation with Schmidt. It was absurd, but now that he was thinking of it, he could remember a blue flash in the exact moment when he had attacked Schmidt.

He ran a hand on his forehead, feeling some sweat even if he was shivering.

“ _Even if not whole, the Tesseract is not a power a mortal can hope to overcome”_.

Loki thought Schmidt had the Tesseract, or at least a part of it. Tony couldn't believe it, because Thor had assured Fury and them all that the Tesseract was now being kept in his palace vault, which was the safest place of the universe, or something like that.

But, now that he thought about it, Schmidt should have been dead, since Capsicle had seen the Nazi being consumed by the Tesseract's power.

He shook his head, before another shiver persuaded him to return to the couch.

There were too many details that sounded strange. Loki could have mocked him, torturing him with the knowledge that the children had died because of him. Instead, it seemed the god, consciously or unconsciously, had almost tried to alleviate his guilt.

He closed his eyes, feeling like his brain was splitting in two pieces. His head was pounding and spinning, and he was really cold, now. He shivered, wondering when the temperature in the room had dropped so suddenly. He rubbed his eyes, then he touched his forehead. He was burning, even if he was feeling so cold he couldn't stop shivering.

He didn't understand, he had been fine just the day before, or even some hours before...

He tensed and suddenly couldn't breathe anymore.

 _Loki_.

He tried to breathe again, while he lifted his t-shirts, checking his Arc Reactor. The reassuring blue was still there. It seemed it was still working, but Tony felt like he was burning and freezing at the same time.

He lowered his t-shirt and stumbled towards the hallway.

Loki's spell had done something else apart from violating his mind and now was killing him. He already found it difficult to think, while he was becoming so feverish that his eyes burned.

The heat and the cold were unbearable.

He could feel the fear in his chest became a living snake, with coils and sharp fangs which was chocking him.

The few meters he had to cover seemed like hundreds of miles while he was struggling to remain conscious. It was almost like when Obadiah had rip his Reactor from his chest. He was feeling the same panic oppressing his lungs, the same terror of dying some more at every breath. But then he had been certain he was dying, while now he didn't know what was happening to him, which was both a distress and a relief.

A sudden tremor made him lean against the wall but he kept walking with the same tenacity he had shown when he had crawled into his lab, looking for his first Arc Reactor.

When he had been Schmidt's prisoner he had wished for death but not now. Not when he was finding again his will to fight.

Trembling so much that he had to keep his mouth close to avoid his teeth to chatter, he managed to reach the closed door.

Loki was his only hope.

He didn't really believe Loki wanted to kill him this way. A psychopath of Loki's caliber would have remained to see him die, laughing and mocking him with genuine amusement.

“Loki!”, Tony yelled, pounding the door with his fist. “Open the door, you bastard!”.

He didn't even want to contemplate the possibility that the god had gone away or chose not to answer, leaving him to die in such an inglorious way.

He was just about to punch the door again when it opened, revealing the angry face of Loki.

The god was more imposing than he remembered and his expression was so full of anger that, in another moment, Tony would have feared for his life.

“Do you have a death wish, Stark?”, the god hissed, but as soon as he took notice of Tony's condition, his anger was replaced by a deep surprise.

Tony moved away from the wall, trying his best to convey through his unfocused gaze the rage he felt towards the god.

“Your damn mind-fucking spell must have had some collateral effects”.

Then, his legs gave out and he saw the floor coming closer to his face with a dangerous speed.


	29. Chapter 28: A dark threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many reviews for the last chapter, thank you so much! I'm really glad you liked it. Thank you for your feedbacks, I love them and you all! And thanks to my beta Sara for her help, darling, you're unique!
> 
> That's the new chapter, I'm trying to make them longer and I hope you'll like it. Enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 28: A dark threat**

 

“Are you saying that out there there's a crazy evil lord more dangerous than your psychopathic brother?”.

Thor's expression darkened like it always happened when someone spoke ill about his shitty brother, but instead of protesting, this time he remained silent and nodded at Fury.

“Aye. Thanos is a being of immeasurable power. Even the All-Father fears him”, he said with a low, strangely severe voice.

He still had his hands on Mjolnir, like he needed her strength to remain standing, now that his shoulders had sagged under what seemed an unbearable weight.

It was upsetting to see Thor so tired and defeated, Clint thought. They were all so used to seeing him cheerful on the borderline of annoying and full of energy, but now, the more he saw him, the more Thor looked like he had aged years in a few days.

And judging by the worried look Banner had, Clint wasn't the only one who thought that in the god's regard.

It had been an hour since their attempt at interrogating Schmidt. After the Nazi scum had mentioned Thanos, there had been chaos: Thor had gotten out of control and caused a blackout with his thunders, before attacking Schmidt like he intended to stop his laughter, breaking his neck. For a moment, Clint had had a vivid image of how the Asgardian people conducted their enemies' interrogation – provided that the one interrogating was a furious god who was violently shaking an hysterical prisoner that couldn't seem to stop laughing.

Then, light had returned and he, together with Steve and Natasha, had managed to calm Thor, while Bruce had stayed in the far away corner of the room. They had tried to obtain some more information from the Nazi, but the only thing he kept saying had been that Thanos would arrive to Earth and wanted to punish Loki because of his failure with the Chitauri army.

“Then let him come, we'll give him Loki with extreme pleasure”, Clint had told the Nazi, before remembering who else was in the room.

“My brother will not be given to Thanos”, had growled Thor a moment later – he had growled, like a ferocious beast, like he was ready to keep his words at the cost of ripping off someone's throat barehanded.

And Schmidt had only kept laughing.

“Thanos won't be satisfied with just one life. He wants to burn this world and to watch it die”, he had commented, the last words he had spoken before Fury ordered to take him away.

After that, Clint and the other Avengers had been called to a meeting and they were still there: five Avengers, all of them upset to different degrees, and Fury, for once without the silent presence of Hill at his side.

The wedge that had been there between them and the Director since Fury had ordered them to suspend the search for Stark was still there but now they had something important to discuss about and Clint felt like they were in a sort of truce.

“And what other information do you have about this Thanos, apart from the fact that he wants Loki for who knows what reason and the fact that he's _a being of immeasurable power_?”, Fury asked Thor.

The god tightened his grip on Mjolnir.

“I will not let him take my brother”.

Clint almost snorted.

 _Typical_.

A crazy villain who was more powerful than the king of the gods was about to attack the Earth and Thor was worried about his asshole brother.

Maybe Fury was thinking the same, because he massaged his temples with his only eye closed, looking like he was trying to control the urge to kill someone.

“If giving your brother up to this motherfucker super-villain was enough to avoid the fight, I would already be busy preparing the box and the ribbon to wrap Loki with. But Schmidt told us that Thanos wants to destroy the Earth anyway so I want to know why. And how we can stop him”.

Thor opened his mouth like he was about to answer, but then he lowered his head and shook it.

“I have to speak with my father”.

“Then try to bring me some answers, I have no intention of suffering another alien invasion because of your brother's fault”.

While Fury stood up and exited the room, leaving behind him an unusually mute Thor, Clint couldn't really disagree with him.

 

 

 

There were dark shadows, in her dreams. Cruel shapes of faraway horrors, hands striving for the golden kingdom she guided together with Odin. A pitch black darkness which took away her breath and drove it back to her throat, because in that darkness she couldn't find the tiniest ray of light.

There was only death.

Something was coming, and her heart skipped a beat: she caught the desire of blood and violence from the creature in her dreams. She felt its thoughts, its resentment, its urge to kill and destroy everything that was living. And, most of all, she heard the promise of a fate worse than death for her lost son.

When she woke up, she didn't shake her head to dissipate the terrifying images of her nightmare. She had learned since she was a child that hers were not just harmless dreams. Her nightmares didn't vanish with the morning's light.

She had dreamed of ice and snow and death before the fight against the Jotun on Midgard; she had seen Odin with a wounded face and one eye only. And she had heard an infant wailing before he came back with a newborn enfolded in his mantel, asking her to raise him like he were their own child.

_We are coming, little god. We are coming for you and there will be no death to save your pitiful soul. Prepare yourself to beg because you will not be able to do anything else before you will begin screaming._

Those words had been so full of hatred she couldn't help but shiver.

Loki was on Midgard, now. He was bringing chaos with him in the mortal's Realm and Thor had left Asgard to stop him and take him back.

Her heart was bleeding knowing that her two sons were now enemies who exchanged hatred and resentment, battling with each other, when they should have been brothers.

She knew without a doubt that Thor would never try to kill Loki. He still loved him, maybe he loved Loki more than he ever loved him, when his younger brother's presence by his side had been taken for granted.

But Loki...

Loki hated and was hurt so deeply that maybe he would never heal from his wounds.

It was her fault too, she knew it: she had tried to keep the secret about his origins and she hadn't interfered when she had seen him learn to hate the Jotun and grow like a shadow of his older brother, a brother who was too self confident and too loved. But no one, not even she with her gift that allowed her to see glimpses of future, could have foreseen the catastrophe that had followed.

She ran a hand on her face, so tired she almost wished she could sleep again.

The roots of Loki's insanity had been shaped when he was still a child. The people surrounding him and the environment he grew up in worsened them, generating jealousy and bitterness. Loki became desperate for Odin's attentions, for someone to acknowledge him instead of his brother.

It had been everyone's fault and they had realized it too late.

She began dressing herself, with her heart beating painfully fast because of the anguish for her younger son and the shadow that loomed over him.

It was easy to love Thor because everyone loved him and almost no one saw his flaws. Even Odin had allowed his pride to blind him. He had been too proud of having for a son the young man who was the sun of Asgard and the smile of his people. He had believed he had the perfect heir for the throne, before Thor's retaliation on Jotunheim made him realize the truth with the bitter taste of disappointment.

Too few loved Loki, though. Almost no one loved him in the right way. And, maybe because of that, she had loved him a little more.

As soon as she finished dressing herself, she walked towards the throne hall, where she knew she would find Odin.

While she went closer to him, she realized not for the first time how much he had aged, how frail he seemed even if he was still the god among the other gods. But thousands of years spent ruling, fighting too many wars, struggling for maintaining peace among the Realms and the incessant worries had left their sign even on him.

Loki had been the last blow from the fate, but maybe it was now the most painful.

When they had believed him dead, they had mourned together and even if they hadn't spoken about his loss anymore, Odin still showed the signs of his sense of guilt: some deeper wrinkles, a sadness buried under his severe only eye, the way he sometimes had stared at the destroyed Bifrost and at the void beneath it. In those times, Frigga hadn't been able to do anything but staying silent behind his back. She hadn't had any words to say, because Odin's sorrow had been her own.

Then, Loki had returned.

More broken, more insane, more wounded than they had ever seen him. And the pain for his loss had mutated into a sharper pain because now there was also the hope to have him back.

Frigga managed to visit him once before he escaped from the cell where he had been held after Thor had brought him back to Asgard. She had seen him tormented, haunted by invisible wounds that maybe would never close, but she had never felt so strongly that he was her son. He would always be, even if there wasn't any of her blood in his veins, even if Loki had disowned them all – all but her, never her, because his voice had trembled when he had spoken to her, his eyes hadn't been able to stare at her, his face hadn't managed to form that cold, sarcastic mask he showed to everyone else.

When Odin had returned to her, after he had visited Loki too, he had seemed like he had aged whole centuries.

“I should have been a better father for both of them”, he had confessed her once, when they had been alone in their chamber, without other ears to listen to the weakness of the most powerful among the gods.

“We both failed”, she had answered him.

But they both knew that Loki had never stopped calling her 'mother', and that the cold 'All-Father' Loki had greeted Odin with was burning Odin's chest with a chill that even in Jotunheim he had never experienced.

Frigga reached the throne where her husband sat and ruled the Realms, feeling their whole weight upon his shoulders.

His only eye met her gaze with a warm affection that in any other moments would have calmed her.

“I thought you were resting” he told her, without concealing the worry in his voice.

“Loki is in danger”.

She didn't say Asgard, nor did she say the Nine Realms, because Loki was the first goal of that creature made of shadow and blood. In the following days, she would have had all the time to act like a queen, worrying for the well-being of all the people. But now she was a mother.

Odin's expression turned into a grave one.

“What have you seen?”.

“A shadow, so big it can darken any light. It's looking for him, to condemn him to an eternity of pain. And after it will have taken him, it will come for Midgard, and then for all of us”.


	30. Chapter 29: Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedbacks, I really appreciated your comments and kudos! And special thanks go as always to my lovely beta Sara, thank you dear!

**Chapter 29: Red**

The room where the debriefing had taken place seemed smaller, now that they all were standing.

Fury had just exited the room, after barking the last comment at Thor and now they found it unbearable remaining sitting down.

They didn't have orders, nor did they have a goal or a target or an idea of how to solve the deep trouble they were in – and they had a lot of problems to solve, not least the absence of one of them. But Clint could feel the tension gathering in the room like a palpable presence. He had the urge to search for his bow, even if he hadn't brought it here and it lied dismantled inside its case, in his room.

Natasha was the most unreadable of them all; her relaxed pose only proved how good she was at hiding her inner turmoil. Bruce was looking at all of them one at a time, without meeting anyone's gaze. Steve kept browsing through the documents Fury had given them, but even if he had cleared his throat twice he hadn't spoken a word, yet.

And Thor was in a corner, his hand still on Mjolnir and his gaze focused on who knows what memory.

No one was saying anything but they all were tormented by the same thoughts.

 _A team._ Now _we've become a fucking team_.

They had fought together countless times, but they had never been so close before, fighting together for a common goal and being ready to defy even Fury – there was a truce now, between him and them, but Clint knew that not one of them had forgotten the day when Fury had ordered them to stop looking for Stark.

Even Natasha, who was perfectly loyal to the organization she decided to work with, was no more a shadow who attended the debriefing only to disappear afterwards, but stayed in their company more often.

They really were a team, now: they got used to eating together, to spend some time together speaking about strategies or hypothesis regarding Stark and where Loki could have brought him. They kept each other company like it was the most natural thing to do.

Among them, there were two assassins, a Norse god, a super soldier and a scientist who could transform into a giant green monster. But they were also the Avengers, a group of heroes who lacked an element – and no, Clint didn't even want to think about the possibility that their name could be reinforced by a second funeral.

 _First Phil, now Tony_.

It seemed like only the losses on the battlefield and the danger could bring them together.

His hand ran unconsciously to his shoulder, stopping just a inch away from where his bow should have been. He sighed, before lowering his arm and shifting his gaze towards Thor.

Amongst them all, he was the one who seemed the most affected by Fury's words. His eyes were staring at the floor, his expression was hidden by his hair, that his bowed head made fall at both sides of his face like two blond curtains.

Clint often felt something akin to resentment towards him. But when he managed to forget how much he hated Loki and tried to put himself in Thor's shoes, Clint pitied him. To love the one who was destroying you had to be the worst damnation of all.

Maybe Natasha was thinking the same, since she went closer to the god.

“Is everything okay?”.

She had spoken in a whisper, with a gentle, caring voice. Maybe only Clint, in that room, knew that Natasha wasn't just trying to be friendly. She was looking for information, the way she had done for all of her life. It was her best talent: to collect data, to discover someone's weakness, someone's secret. To learn other people's emotions in a way so natural that she didn't need to concentrate on that anymore. For her, it was like breathing.

She wasn't a woman who worked as a spy. Natasha was a spy who occasionally allowed herself to be a woman and to feel some emotions. She was both the woman and the spy, Natasha and the Black Widow, and neither of them could exist without the other.

Thor lifted his gaze, looking at her face, and for a moment, it seemed like he had to travel through thousands of miles to actually see her.

“I am thinking of what the mortal said”, he answered, with a clear, perfectly audible voice.

He didn't seem he wanted to speak privately with Natasha, so Clint took a couple of steps towards him, watching Steve and Bruce doing the same.

Thor didn't even seem to notice. He was pensive and had called Schmidt 'mortal', another hint of how far away his mind was, since he hadn't used that word for the last few months, when speaking about them.

“Regarding Thanos and your brother?”, Natasha asked again.

Thor nodded.

“This... this changes a lot of things”.

Clint tensed, feeling a slight discomfort.

“What should it change?”.

“If Thanos had been there behind my brother's invasion, then his change could have an explanation”, Thor said, before shaking his head.

When he met Clint's gaze again, his eyes were clear and so hopeful that Clint could count each wound Loki had inflicted upon him and every one that would follow as well as the fact that he would forgive him everything.

“I do not think that my brother wanted to win”.

There was a moment of complete silence, then, they all began talking to each other.

Through Steve's unbelievable objection and his own angry reply, Clint noticed that Natasha hadn't showed the tiniest reaction.

“I agree”, she said.

Steve turned to face her instead of Thor.

“What?!”.

“Maybe he was crazier than now, maybe he wasn't trying to win, I don't care. But I'm certain of one thing: Loki hadn't fought at his best during the Chitauri invasion”. Natasha stared emotionless at each of them, without batting an eyelid. “After our last few fights against him, you should have realized it, too”.

Steve lowered his eyes.

“We have never been able to capture him”, he admitted.

“If Loki had really wanted to, he could have killed all of us, apart maybe from Thor and Bruce”.

It had to cost a lot, to Natasha, making an admission that showed a weakness of her, but Clint couldn't find any hesitation in her words. He had to scan her frame to realize that her shoulders were a little bit tense, the only hint which showed her discomfort.

“But he didn't”, she went on speaking “And his attacks, after the failed invasion, have never been so destructive. And, apart from his first try, when did he actually try to take over the Earth?”

Bruce nodded.

“It's something I've always found strange”.

Now they were all staring at him and Bruce seemed a little embarrassed. He took off his glasses and cleaned then with the hem of his shirt, while clearing his throat.

When Tony had been with them, they easily forgot that in their team there was another genius, even if way less verbose and exuberant. But during the last few weeks, they had often listened to Bruce, asking him for advice.

“What are your ideas, doc?”, Clint asked.

“I think there's a possibility that Loki had been coerced by Thanos into attacking the Earth”. Bruce slowly said. “Thor, you told us that Loki fell into the void between the Realms. Could it be that Thanos found him and then used him for his own goals? If he's so powerful, Loki would have no choice, so he played along and instead tried to sabotage the invasion he led himself”.

Suddenly, Clint felt bile rise in his throat.

It was exactly what he didn't want, the reason why he had always ignored those little hints that now were proving Natasha's and Bruce's words.

During Clint's brainwashed period, Loki had looked exhausted and worn out by what couldn't have been only tiredness. His face had been almost sickly gray, his cheeks had been hollow, his eyes had been feverish and crazy.

After being a field agent for so long, Clint had known how to recognize the signs of physical and psychological torture in someone's appearance, and he had no doubts that Loki had endured both before coming to Earth.

“He didn't seem so reluctant when he attacked New York”, he said harshly.

There was always too much empathy for someone who had been tortured. Maybe Steve and Bruce would pity Loki. Thor would surely do so. But not always was the one tortured a victim. Loki was not and didn't deserve any compassion.

Clint would never reveal those particulars to anyone, he didn't want to mitigate the resentment his teammates should feel towards that bastard.

For a moment, he felt Natasha's eyes on him, trying to catch his thoughts, like she could dig into his mind with the same ease she breathed. And even if she said nothing, he knew that she would interrogate him privately. A moment later, Natasha shifted his attention to the god again.

“He didn't need to hesitate. He just wanted to make sure the Chitauri couldn't win”.

“I do not understand”. Thor's eyes were confused, but they still showed that omnipresent, foolish hope. “Are you saying that my brother protected Midgard in his own way? Or that he desired its destruction?”.

Natasha shook her head.

“Neither, or both, if you prefer. You have your most dangerous enemy's army at your command and you have been ordered to conquer what your hated brother has promised to protect. What would you do, if you were in Loki's shoes?”.

And Clint didn't even see if the hope in Thor's eyes had been extinguished by the familiar pain caused by his asshole brother. For once, his infallible eyes didn't see anything but the red of his own rage.

Loki hadn't wanted to win. Nor had he wanted to protect the Earth.

That bastard had tried to manipulate them into doing the dirty job in his stead, letting them pay the price, while he enjoyed destroying neighborhood after neighborhood.

_No, he hadn't tried._

Clint felt sick, he was so furious he was about to puke in the room with all of teammates' eyes on him.

_He had succeeded._

And now that he had Tony in his hands and that the crazy guy from outer space was coming, maybe he would pull the same trick again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please, let me know what you think about this chapter. And next chapters will have a lot of Loki and Tony parts :)


	31. Chapter 30: A taste of fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are back to Loki and Tony, I hope you'll like the chapter. Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, and special thanks go to my beta Sara, thank you darling!

**Chapter 30: A taste of fear**

When Loki saw Stark collapsing to the ground, it was just surprise that made him stretch out his hand and grab him by the collar of his garment before the mortal smashed his head against the floor. Stark made a choking sound and the cloth stretched like it was about to tear, but in the end, Loki found himself with a sweaty mortal who was rocking under his fingers, panting and without the strength to support himself.

Part of him wanted to punish Stark for the inconvenience he had caused, but his prisoner looked surprisingly sick.

He slammed him against the wall, grabbing his shoulder to avoid letting him fall down. Then, he studied the mortal, frowning in confusion.

He felt the abnormal warmth Stark was irradiating even without touching him, but the mortal was shivering. His face and body were damp with sweat and his eyes were half closed, a sign he was about to lose consciousness any minute. He hadn't even tried to rebel, despite his accusation.

Loki lifted his chin, trying in vain to penetrate the mortal's dizziness.

When he had left Stark, he hadn't been so sick.

The spell he had used didn't cause similar effects, not even if the victim tried to rebel against the mental intrusion. At most, Stark would have felt pain if he had tried to resist the mind violation, but the mortal had been caught by surprise and wasn't a sorcerer capable of shielding his mind, and reading his thoughts had been as easy as shattering a child's defenses.

However, now Stark was definitely ill, he seemed like he was burning from the inside and Loki couldn't shake the feeling that maybe his captive was dying.

His hand on the mortal's shoulder shifted to his sweaty neck, trying to find Stark's pulse. It was irregular and too fast, with the same rhythm of his breathing.

Loki could have broken his neck any time, now, and Stark wasn't even trying to defend himself, like he wasn't completely there.

It seemed absurd that, after all of what Stark had endured, he was dying now, without a wound or some torture to justify his sudden weakness. But it wasn't the first time Loki had noticed how frail other races were in comparison to himself.

Once, he had seen a mortal belonging to another Realm who had been a Skrull's slave enduring several beatings and torture without breaking, just to become very ill after he had been freed and had been taken to a healer. It seemed like mortals were able to bear quite a lot of pain, despite their frail body, but began falling apart when they should be healing.

Now Stark was showing the same signs, reminding him how easy it was to wound a mortal.

Maybe the mind violation had been enough to make him ill, after all he had endured under the other mortal's care. Now that Loki thought about it, Stark hadn't been completely well. He surely was better than when he had seen him in the dark prison, when he had looked like the dirty, mute shadow of his former self: his wounds had closed, his bruises were fading and he had put on some weight in the last few days. But Stark hadn't healed completely from the torture and probably his mind had reacted to the spell in the worst way, since it was still haunted by self-guilt and remorse.

Grabbing him through the collar of his garment, Loki drew him closer, like Stark was a puppet whose strings had been cut off.

“Why are you mortals so weak and pathetic?”.

This time Stark seemed like he became conscious enough to hear his words. He stretched a hand to reach for his tunic, grabbing it with a laughable strength, while his feverish eyes traveled around his face like they couldn't focus.

“Don't you dare blame this on me, Rock of Ages”, he exhaled and managed to show a glimpse of rage. “It's _your_ spell that worked like shit and made me sick”.

Loki strengthened his grip, ignoring the urge to hit him.

“My spell worked perfectly. If you want to blame something, blame your own weakness”.

Without waiting for a reply, he dragged him to the kitchen, where he shoved him on a chair, ignoring the way the mortal cursed him and stumbled under his grip.

When he looked at him, Stark seemed more conscious than before, even if his face was redder and he was still panting.

It was a nuisance and he surely wouldn't use his magic to heal him. Apart from the displeasure of wasting his power to help a prisoner, he didn't know how the mortal would react to a second spell, now that he was so weak and pathetic.

But Stark was burning in front of his eyes and it was obvious what the simplest solution would be.

He turned his back to the mortal and searched into the cupboard until he found a bucket. Then, he filled it with cold water but as soon as he reached for some napkins, some noise behind his back made him turn around.

Stark was standing, trembling and panting, with one hand on the table to support himself and the other clutched around the handle of a kitchen knife.

“Put it down, Stark”.

He didn't even know how the mortal had managed to stand, let alone to reach the drawer and to dare threaten him.

Then, Loki saw his eyes, wide with fear and the effort to remain conscious, heard his labored breathing, which sounded similar to a panic state, took notice of his stare, which was focused more on the bucket than on him, and he suddenly understood.

The water.

The icy water filling his lungs – _he was drowning, while his damaged heart beat with increased effort, and it all was too frightening and painful, and he couldn't discern between water and air, between coldness and scorching warmth, between the questions and the laughter_.

He reached Stark in the blink of an eye, avoiding effortlessly his clumsy attempt at stabbing him.

Without giving the mortal a second chance, he pressed two fingers against his temple, allowing the smallest hint of his own power to flow into his mind, turning his conscience off without any pain. As soon as Stark's body became dead weight, he supported it, watching the mortal's panicked eyes losing their focus and then disappearing behind his eyelids.

 _I know two of your biggest fears, now, Stark_.

And it filled him with pure bliss to know how he could completely destroy the mortal. Threatening Stark with his fear towards water or using the horror for the lost fight where his heroic self had died against him, he could tear his mind apart, he could unveil every one of his deepest secrets, he could force him to reveal all the information he wanted.

He owned Stark, now. The mortal was his to destroy, his to shape at his will, his to help heal or to kill. Knowing someone's fears meant having an unlimited amount of power over them – it meant being the god of their puny existence.

But at the same time, he found it irritating to see Stark so weak and sick because of some sort of invisible illness.

The mortal hadn't always been so pathetic: he had seen him crawling with his last breaths, looking for another heart while the one inside his chest threatened to stop at every beat. And he had felt Stark's desperate will to live when someone was cutting his ribcage open and the pain was unbearable.

Ignoring the bucket full of water, he lifted the unconscious mortal and brought him to the bathroom.

There was an even more valid method to lower his fever than putting wet napkins onto his forehead and wrists, and now that Stark was fast asleep he wouldn't even have to worry about his rebellion.

He laid the mortal down to the floor, before he began filling the tub with tepid water.

In a few minutes, he would put the mortal into the tub and let the natural method put an end to that annoying inconvenience.

When he directed his attention back to his problem, he noticed that Stark hadn't moved and was just panting and trembling.

He only needed a gesture to remove his Midgardian clothes away from him, putting them in a messy pile in a corner of the bathroom. Then his gaze traveled again to the now naked mortal, and the blue light which lived in his chest became the only thing his eyes could see.


	32. Chapter 31: Deep blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I had some very busy weeks. Thank you so much for the comments, I didn't expect so many of them, you're too kind! And special thanks go as usual to my beta Sara, thank you darling.

**Chapter 31: Deep blue**

 

Putting Stark into the bathtub without making him drown turned out to be a lot more difficult than Loki had anticipated. His inert body persisted in sliding under water no matter what the mortal's position was and, in the end, Loki resigned himself to stay with him, keeping his head above the water with a hand on his shoulder, instead of going back to his books and the spell he had been studying before the mortal interrupted him.

Taking care of a prisoner was a lot more difficult and annoying than what he had thought, but he didn't want Stark to return to being the silent, boring shadow of himself.

He took a couple of minutes to study the mortal. His face was red because of the fever and he was tense even when unconscious. His skin was still marked by the torture he had borne when he had been the other mortal's prisoner, and some of the wounds would scar, but he was healing.

The strange contraption in his chest was mesmerizing and Loki had the urge to touch it, to explore it with his fingers and his magic, so that he could understand what it was. But he resisted his curiosity because now he wanted to make sure the mortal would survive.

Naked and unconscious, Stark was a trembling mess of mortal flesh which was burning, panting and sweating, showing his weakness. It seemed like he would die anytime, so frail and feeble in comparison to himself. Stark's body was like a worn out shell with only a spark of life that could be extinguished with the gentlest breeze. But Loki hadn't finished playing with his prisoner, yet – he hadn't even begun, not really – and would not allow the mortal to escape his grasp so easily.

He remained silent, waiting for the fever to break.

By the time Stark's body adjusted to an acceptable temperature, the water had become cold.

Loki had already wasted a considerable amount of time taking care of the mortal, so he used a spell to dry his prisoner's body and hair. He could have left him wet and unconscious on the couch, but he knew it would worsen his condition. Instead, he took him to his bedroom and allowed the mortal to lie on his bed.

Now that he didn't have to worry about the fever anymore, he let his eyes wander on the strange contraption Stark had inside his chest. It was blue, the same blue that belonged to the Tesseract and it seemed it carried a similar power. It was absurd, since the Midgardians were blind and ignorant towards magic, but he was intrigued nonetheless.

Without really thinking, he traced the edge of the contraption with his fingers, recognizing the same hard surface that had repelled his scepter when he had tried to control Stark. The skin next to the metal was scarred and showed that the thing inside the mortal's chest shouldn't have been there in the first place.

It seemed like it could have been taken out and, for a moment, Loki was tempted to do just that and see what would have happened to Stark if he had took that away from him, the most interesting of his secrets.

He traced one of the most evident scars, then he rested his palm against the contraption, stifling the blue light. He shuddered in an almost pleasant way when he felt an unknown power pulsing against his hand. It was so close, yet so unreachable, because it wasn't magic and he didn't understand it.

He closed his eyes to better feel it. It was the same power that belonged to the Man of Iron's armor but he didn't understand if it was a weapon or a wound, because he could still  _relive_ the unknown men cutting open Stark's chest in an explosion of agony and the mortal himself crawling on the floor with a hole in his chest. He doubted Stark had wanted that.

While the memories of what had seen in the mortal's mind made him tense, he opened his eyes again. And, instead of his unconscious face, he found himself looking at Stark's panicked eyes.

 

 

 

He was wandering in the suffocating warmth of Afghanistan, with the desert that tried to swallow him whole and the sand that invaded his nostrils at every breath.

Then, there were the nights, when the cold froze his bones and the dirty rag he had as blanket wasn't enough to warm him and to stifle his shivering.

The pain in his chest was always there, with the warmth and the cold, during the days and the nights, at every beat of his damaged heart.

Time ran too fast, he was fighting against it in a chess game where he wasn't allowed to make any mistakes, while his genial mind tried to make the impossible possible to save his own life and he was dying a little more every minute.

He was so desperate to live that he succeeded, he created the impossible and put it into his own chest, proving once again how the great Tony Stark was superior to anyone else. He was stronger, smarter, more skilled than any other person on the planet.

And then, Yinsen died.

_But Yinsen had died because of a mistake, he hadn't followed his plan, it hadn't been Tony's fault._

He felt sick, the urge to vomit was overwhelming, he was burning and freezing at the same time, two different sensations that set his nerves on overload, like he was a computer whose RAM was being used up to the last bit.

But soon the burning warmth disappeared and so the cold disappeared as well.

He wasn't shivering anymore, there was only peace, lulling his mind into a deep, comforting slumber, while the distant sensation of a hand on his shoulder made him feel like he didn't need to find his balance because someone else was finding it in his stead.

For a little while, his mind remained shut off.

 

He resurfaced from the sweet nothingness with an icy shiver along his spine.

He felt the danger but wasn't able to react, he saw shadows creeping closer to his face, medics or terrorists, he couldn't understand which of them.

His chest was open, his heart exposed, he felt them digging their fingers into his flesh, tearing apart his nerves and tissues and shards of bones.

He wanted to wake up, to tell them to stop, because he needed those parts. They had to save him, not kill him.

But he had blood in his mouth and couldn't articulate a word while the pain was devouring his body and mind.

There was Loki too, somewhere among the shadows. Tony knew he was there, the mad god with a strange fixation for leather pants and horns, who enjoyed tormenting him and then gave him something similar to absolution.

_Because it had been his fault the children had died, but Loki had told him that no, he couldn't have saved them anyway, and Tony wanted to believe him so badly that he was ready to cling even to the words of the God of Lies._

He tried to breathe, but he had too many thoughts, like too many were the children's bodies lying on the ground red of blood, like too many were his fault, the sins to confess to some god whose existence he didn't even believe in.

_And Yinsen who had died for him, and unknown sheets trapping his legs and where was his bar with his fucking scotch?_

He woke up with a strangled gasp.

There really was a sheet tangled to his legs, because he was lying on a bed. And he was naked. And, most of all, there was Loki looming above him, his green eyes reflecting a blue shade which was way too familiar.

Tony lowered his gaze, so tense he wasn't breathing.

The god's hand was where it should have never been.

Loki was touching his Reactor. He was  _caressing_ it, looking at it like he were a moth drawn to a flame.

Tony didn't think, he simply grabbed the god's wrist with all his strength, while the feeling of how wrong the situation was almost made him sick.

_Loki was touching his Reactor. The part of himself he didn't allow anyone to touch. Only Pepper could, she and no one else._

And panic swallowed him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and sorry for the cliffhanger. I'll try to update again in a few days. Also, I'm publishing another FrostIron fanfiction, something very short and way less angsty. If you like something humorous and Steve getting traumatized by the evil, hottest duo in the Marvel universe, you're welcome to read it :)


	33. Chapter 32: Spy's interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and the kudos, you're awesome! And special thanks go to my beta Sara, thank you for your help darling!

**Chapter 32: Spy's interlude**

 

Even in the soft silence of their mutual fulfillment, with the scent of sex on their skins and the walls that echoed with their moans, Natasha was the Black Widow.

When she was in his arms, she was warm and exciting. She returned his kisses with the same passion and let him hug her, caress her, search for her mouth and skin before doing the same to him. But Clint knew that nothing of her became more vulnerable just because she had taken off her clothes and discarded her gun, her second gun and three knives at the foot of the bed.

Nothing of her would ever be vulnerable when Natasha allowed herself to be human.

When she felt safe, in their most intimate moments, her muscles relaxed and her expression softened without showing that sweet, timid smile she used to charm her targets. But her mind always stayed alert, even when she was with him.

There were some small details that proved how much Natasha trusted him, though. Like the fact that she let him see her completely naked, leaving her weapon away from her reach. Or that she didn't assume a position anymore where she could always see the door and the windows from. Or that she allowed herself to fall asleep next to him, and to truly sleep, because it wasn't the perfect pretense she used to doing on her missions.

It was the most human behavior Natasha could show him, and to Clint, who knew her like no one else, it was enough.

“ _Natasha, do you ever stop being a spy?”._

_It was the first time they had sex after Budapest and Clint still wasn't sure if Natasha had truly wanted him or just wanted to use her body to manipulate him._

_She smiled, and he fell in love with her a little more._

“ _I can't stop being me”._

And she lived up to her name even now, because what Clint hadn't said when they had been together with the other Avengers had sounded loud and clear in the intimacy of his room. Natasha had squeezed the truth out of him even before taking her clothes off.

“I don't like it”, he told her for the third time since he had heard her light steps coming into his bedroom – and he had heard her only because he knew she was coming and because Natasha wasn't trying to conceal her presence.

She looked at him through the dark, reading inside his mind.

“I know what Loki did to you”.

But no, she didn't, not really, because her brainwashing had been way different from the willing, satisfying and needy servitude that the asshole god had imposed on him.

“Then why are you defending him?”.

“I am not defending him. But we have to think about Earth, now. About saving her and her inhabitants. If Thanos truly wants to bring war here regardless of Loki's fate, we must think of the best way to face him”.

He couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

“And you think allying with that bastard would be a good idea?”.

Even the intimacy with her hadn't mellowed the thought of Loki as an ally. He didn't know how she of all people could have suggested something like that.

“I never talked about an alliance. I just think it would be wise to join our forces against a common enemy, instead of wasting our men and weapons fighting against each other”.

“Sure, why not?” Clint snorted and knew his sarcasm was hard and maybe offensive, but didn't care. “Even if I agreed to not attack the bastard on sight, he surely can't wait to become our newest bro in arms”.

Not that he would ever accept a truce with him. He had an arrow for him and the promise to stick it into one of his eyes was the thought that made sleep come easier to him during the night.

The look Natasha gave him was enough to tell him that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“If we have to trust Thor regarding Thanos' dangerousness, even Loki won't be able to escape him for long. Together with us he'll have more possibilities to defeat him and he knows it”.

“And you expect him to be trustworthy? You think he won't play double or even triple game, using us as expendable pawns like he did during the Chitauri invasion?”.

Her gaze hardened.

“Loki is not the only one who can use people for his own goals”.

She sat up on the bed, naked and beautiful.

The distant moon accentuated her perfect profile and the shape of her breasts, and even in the semi-darkness of the night Clint could  _feel_ her charm –  but for him, Natasha was a lot more: she was more than her beauty, more than her seduction, more than the sensation of her thighs around his hips.

Even with the resentment burning in his throat and the thought of Loki upsetting him, Clint felt the desire to have her again.

“When everything will be over, even if Loki will be still alive, he won't be in his best shape”, Natasha went on. “He will be weakened, vulnerable, exhausted”. Her red lips opened in a smile, and Clint realized he loved that smile that seemed stained with blood. “And then, it won't be difficult to dispose of him”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's a short chapter with no Loki and no Tony, I'm sorry. The good thing: next chapter will be twice as long and full of Loki and Tony (sort of) interaction!  
> Thank you for reading.


	34. Chapter 33: Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update, I just hope the chapter won't disappoint you. This time, it's a longer chapter focused on Loki and Tony only.
> 
> Thanks a lot for the comments and the kudos, you're awesome! And special thanks go as always to my darling beta Sara for her help.

**Chapter 33: Truce**

 

Judging by his panicked stare, Stark hadn't found it particularly pleasant waking up while he was exploring the metal in his chest. The mortal met his eyes in a moment of absolute silence, allowing him to recognize the horror that filled them, while his weak hand rushed to grab Loki's wrist, digging his nails into his flesh.

Then, Stark jerked away and bolted towards the door.

Ignoring his attempt at fleeing, Loki looked down at his own arm. If he had been a mortal like Stark, he would have had a bruise by now, where the Avenger had grabbed him.

He allowed him to almost exit the room before acting. Without standing, he snapped his fingers and immediately Stark found himself dragged back to the bed by a solid chain that had appeared around his wrists. He struggled with all the small amount of strength that his mortal, weak body possessed, but finally he was chained to the bedpost with his hands above his head.

Loki smiled, looming over him. As soon as he reached for the contraption in his chest, Stark intensified his useless struggles.

“Don't touch me!”.

He was panting, his eyes wide from panic and all his composure lost in the blink of an eye. To see a man like Stark without his controlled mask, who always hid his emotions with layers of irony and arrogance, was more intimate than seeing him naked. It was elating and Loki didn't want anything more than to prolong this moment of weakness to discover every fear, every emotion, every frailty of the mortal who had begun to be a constant presence in his thoughts.

Ignoring Stark's curses, he caressed the metal with two fingers, hearing the mortal's breath suddenly stopping while his whole body tensed in refusal. And they both knew that it wasn't for the fear of rape, but for a different kind of fear.

As soon as Stark began breathing again, with a frantic, terrified rhythm, Loki covered the blue light with his palm, feeling his too fast pulse and basking in the sensation of the mortal so defenseless beneath him.

_You are mine, Stark. Mine is the power to touch you, to gift you with another day of your life or to negate it. I have become the god of your little mortal world._

When he slowly withdrew his hand, the chains around Stark's wrists disappeared.

Immediately, the mortal retreated further back on the matress, pressing himself against the headboard trying to control his shivering, but didn't dare give it another shot at running away

_Smart choice._

“There is a limit to what a psychopathic alien god can or cannot do with his prisoners, you know, you sadistic son of a bitch?”, Stark growled while he pressed an arm against his contraption like he was trying to protect it from him.

Loki smiled, showing his teeth. He was in such a good mood that he didn't even take notice of the offense in Stark's words - but he didn't grace that question with an answer either.

“It seems a very important part of you. It is strange, since it does not actually belong to your body”.

“What do you know about it? Aren't you an alien from outer space? Maybe it _does_ belong to my body and we Earth people are all built in this way, with a huge piercing between the nipples that mustn't be touched by anyone”.

The mortal was still extremely tense but it seemed like he had recovered enough from his fear to show him his hatred instead of his panic.

“Agent Barton did not have anything like that”, Loki replied.

For a moment, Stark's eyes were crossed by a horrified flash and his foolish suspect made him smile again.

“Neither he, nor the other mortals he had hired, were particularly ashamed of nudity. They changed clothes in my presence. And not one of them had this contraption in their chest. Furthermore no Midgardian was immune to my scepter. Apart from you”. He closed the distance between them, his eyes focused again on the metal in Stark's chest. “What would have happened if I had torn it from your body?”.

Stark recoiled instantly, pressing his arm to his chest more firmly. Loki could see his will to remain silent but also his doubts and fear behind his hostile expression.

Maybe he thought that if he didn't answer, Loki would take it out for real – _and truthfully Loki was tempted by this thought, by the curiosity that always made him test objects and people alike for the pure pleasure to see their reactions._

“A brutal fall for the stocks of my business, more than what should have already happened, a breath of relief from Fury and tears of desperation from my fans”, Stark finally answered.

Loki relived again the fire in his chest while his life was extinguished one second at a time. It was what he had lived inside Stark's mind and it all had happened because the piece of metal was missing.

“Who managed to take it from you?”.

The mortal flinched like he had struck him.

“How do you know?”.

“From your eyes when you woke up. It was clear that you already experienced a similar situation”.

_And there was a hole in his chest, while he crawled beneath Stark's skin, and his heart was pumping blood and pain into his veins becoming weaker with each beat, and the bitter taste of bile in his mouth was burning his throat when he desperately tried to keep on living and the betrayal that had just happened hurt his already wounded chest._

“And what makes you think I want to give you an answer to that? Telling my secrets to the psycho who keeps me prisoner?”. The mortal almost snorted. “Not a good idea, sorry”.

After the last few days spent in apathy, Stark seemed like he had returned to himself enough to react and rebel, and Loki liked it almost as much as he liked provoking him and figuring out his secrets.

He didn't want to punish him for his arrogance, at least for now.

“Because I want to know it”, he replied, lifting a hand to show him some green sparkles of magic coming from his fingers. “Last time you did not want to answer my questions it did not go too well for you, do you not think?”.

There was silence while the threat of a second mind violation hung between them. Only after a couple of minutes, Stark moved his eyes away from Loki's fingers to meet his gaze.

“I'll tell you if you tell me what you were doing in Schmidt's base”.

Loki didn't even think to refuse: Stark asked him for some useless information and he appreciated the fact that, in exchange, the mortal would cooperate. After spending the last few hours trying to heal him, he really didn't want to use magic on him again, despite his own threats.

“I accept, but you will answer first”.

For a moment, Stark looked surprised, like he hadn't expected him to agree. Then, he laughed bitterly.

“In the end, you've already seen it, haven't you?”.

“Then you will not find it difficult to answer me”.

Stark shook his head, before his laughed died and his face became an emotionless mask.

“It was Obadiah Stane”, he began, saying that name with the same intonation Loki would use when pronouncing 'Odin' or 'Thor'. “He was... you can say my fatherly figure, or the father I've never had”. His face showed an hint of boredom. “Family dinner, pizza, Christmas presents and lectures for when I skipped my duty and so on. And in the end he revealed himself to be a person who was even worse than my father since, well, at least my father never tried to kill me”. The irony he had used to cover his wounds so skillfully disappeared, leaving a hard stare. “Your turn”.

“I sensed a power similar to the one belonging to the Tesseract, so I teleported there to see what it was”, Loki answered immediately, but not fast enough to cover his own thoughts.

_An absent father who ignored him and a man who took his place only to betray Stark later, tearing out from his chest what the mortal had in place of his heart._

Even such simple words were enough to force him to look inside himself, like in Stark, he saw those parts of him he had voluntarily left behind.

“What happened to Schmidt and how's the Tesseract involved in all of this?”.

“It is not your turn yet, Stark”, he growled at the mortal.

His eyes lowered until he focused again on the blue light on the mortal's chest and reached for it with his fingers.

“What is this strange contraption?”.

This time, the mortal tensed but didn't flinch, nor did he recoil. He only stared at his hand like he wanted to be sure that Loki wasn't about to touch him.

“A gift from Obie, from when I still thought he was a good guy”.

Loki snorted, withdrawing his hand.

“This is not a real answer”.

Stark hardened his stare.

“Long story short, he paid some men to kill me but they recognized me and thought I could be more valuable alive than dead, so I found myself in a cave with a chest full of shrapnel that was about to reach my heart. I don't know how your anatomic knowledge is, but metal shards going through your heart? Really bad thing. Luckily, another prisoner managed to implant an electromagnet powered by a car battery into my chest to keep the shards still and away from my heart. When I healed a little, I built a safer generator than a car battery. It's an Arc Reactor and it's unique, since I'm a genius and no one else in the world is able to replicate it. And you won't touch it again”.

There was truth among Stark's bragging and some words whose meaning escaped him, and he looked at the metal on the mortal's chest with growing interest. It possessed the same shade of blue of the lights coming from his armor.

“So this is a creation that allows you to live and at the same time gives you the power to use your armor?”.

Stark grabbed the sheet and used it to cover his legs and crotch, like he had realized only then that he was completely naked.

“Exactly”. He crossed his arms against his chest. “And with this, you owe me two answers. You can answer my two questions from before”.

“If Schmidt is the mortal with the red face, then he dared to defy me and I destroyed him. The Tesseract had fused a part of its energy to his hand. Thanks to that he could use an infinitesimal part of its power and defeated you”, he replied with a bored voice, before thinking about Stark's memories, wondering how the mortal could have survived. “How did you manage to escape when you were a wounded prisoner?”.

The mortal couldn't hide a smirk.

“They wanted me to build weapons for them, so I built the first version of my suit. For me”. A hint of pride flashed into his eyes before his face returned an emotionless mask. “So the two blue orbs you were manipulating with magic some days ago... they were the Tesseract part that Schmidt possessed, weren't they?”.

“Very good, Stark. I wondered if you would understand that”.

He had a lot more questions on the Reactor and even now his eyes couldn't avoid staring at the pulsing blue energy that was life and power at the same time.

“How long would you survive if I took it out from your chest?”.

Stark tensed immediately.

“In a not stressful environment, some minutes”. His expression returned a hostile mask full of suspicion. “In a stressful situation, like being held by a psychopathic god with a debatable sense of humor, I could go into cardiac arrest every second”.

He hadn't lied. Loki remembered all too well the awful sensation of dying, when he had relived Stark's panicked moments without the Reactor. But he was still interested in it, the Reactor was so bright and full of unknown power that he was attracted to it regardless the mortal's words.

“I desire to see it”, he said, stretching his hand toward Stark's chest.

The mortal grabbed his wrist before he reached it.

“And I desire to be in my home in Malibu, with a glass of scotch in my hand and a dumb model on my knees ready to laugh at my drunken jokes”.

“I have no intentions of killing you, Stark. But I want to see what it looks like”.

The fingers on his wrist were weak in comparison to his own strength; he could free himself anytime, but now the mortal and he were still talking and it wasn't the time to use violence.

“Then I want to see your true appearance. Thor said you look like an emo rock star because of a spell. The pretty, anorexic mad god is actually a mask for a pimply fat villain?”.

The rage took possession of Loki in the blink of an eye, so burning and violent that it interrupted his breathing. He roughly pulled Stark towards his body, then he grabbed his throat, while his fingers trembled for the urge to dig into the mortal's flesh, to crumble it, to _destroy_.

“Do not talk about Thor or about what that oaf told you about me ever again, or I will rip your Reactor from your chest and crush it”, he hissed.

But his mind was already being overwhelmed by the voices – _unworthy son, monster, Jotun. 'No, Loki'._

The mortal grabbed his arm, trying to break free from his grasp. He already couldn't breathe properly but there was a sharp smile on his face when he dared to meet Loki's gaze.

“Have I just found your Arc Reactor, Reindeer Games?”.

Loki strengthened his grip, while the urge to kill the mortal almost overwhelmed his mind. Then he remembered all the time he wasted on him, trying to heal him, the secrets Stark still held and the worth of an enemy prisoner that finally, after some days of annoying apathy, was slowly returning to being the interesting Midgardian he enjoyed fighting against.

“You will not talk about Thor in my presence again”.

He shoved the mortal away with enough strength to make him fall off the bed.

Stark stood up immediately, massaging his throat where a second imprint of his hand was forming above the older bruises.

“Then you don't go around touching people where they don't want to be touched. Thor doesn't want his hammer to be touched, and I mean the hammer he carries around bound to his belt, not the one under it. You don't want people to touch your mix of inferiority complex, jealousy and family shit that happened in your life. And I don't want my Arc Reactor to be touched. Is that clear?”.

Stark was ridiculous: naked and so weak that his legs were trembling, with his throat and neck full of bruises, and still he dared to threaten him, a god. But Stark's gaze was hard and Loki remembered well the other occasion when that Midgardian, who at first had looked so pathetic, had threaten him.

“Maybe you do not fully understand your situation. You are my prisoner, mortal, you are not allowed to bargain”.

Stark came closer to the bed.

“Believe me, it never ended well for the guys who held me prisoner”.

He was smiling. In a sharp, menacing way that showed he wasn't really broken, not anymore. It was a smile belonging to a man that was worth destroying.

Loki couldn't help but smiling too.

“Before, you were being kept prisoner by mere mortals. I am a god”.

“And I am the smartest man in the world and the _weak Midgardian_ who entered your portal carrying on his shoulder a fucking nuclear missile that destroyed the Chitauri army”.


	35. Apologies

Hi to everyone and please, forgive me for this fake update.

I'm sorry that I haven't updated for so long. Sadly I've been and still am really busy with my life. My job is killing me and I can't wait to have some time when I don't have to study anymore.

Anyway, I wanted to assure you that I didn't abandon this story. In fact, today I sent my new chapter to my beta, so as soon as she corrects it I'll replace this chapter with the actual one.

I also wanted to thank you for your patience and your support. It's amazing to know that there are people who are still interested in my story even after a month of waiting. Thank you so much!


	36. Chapter 34: Bed time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, this time it's a real update! I'm still waiting for my beta's reply but I didn't want to make you wait any longer, so here it is my new, unbeta'd chapter: I just hope it won't be too bad.
> 
> Thank you so much for your support, it means a lot for me, especially now that I'm having a hard time. Your last comments made my day :)
> 
> Edit: Thanks to my beta Sara, this is the betaed chapter!

**Chapter 34: Bed time**

 

He had expected a threat or maybe a punch straight to his face, for his words. And he didn't remember the last time he had dared to brag and to remark on his worth, rediscovering the genius he had been for his whole life instead of the defeated man he had been during the last few weeks.

But Loki hadn't reacted violently. Actually, he hadn't reacted at all: he had just stared at him with a predatory satisfaction that sent an unpleasant shiver along his spine.

“And do not think that I resent you for that, Stark”, the god had said, with a smile that carried too many meanings.

He had seemed amused, almost delighted in hearing his replies. Only when Tony had mentioned Thor, Loki had been angry, but apart from that, he had behaved like their verbal spar had been nothing different than a new game, a more satisfying and funny hobby than mistreating an apathetic prisoner.

Loki didn't even seem completely hostile anymore and he surely didn't show anything of the frustration he must have felt when Tony had been a silent, broken enemy – a time spent with his mind lost in a fog, and Tony could still feel his guilt and his self hatred trying to drag him down again into the dark abyss of pain, where he could never escape from a second time.

He shivered.

His fever had broken and, even if he was warmer than what he should have been in a sane condition, he wasn't so sick he couldn't walk. He felt weak, though, and his throat hurt at every breath. He didn't need a mirror to know it showed the mark of Loki's hand. He gingerly touched the bruises, while the pain that arose reminded him of how close he had been to losing his life. It was strange, because during that moment he hadn't cared, but now he actually wanted to live.

It seemed to him that whole months had passed since the moment he had begun talking again, instead of mere days.

The self contempt was still there, buried deep in his chest and so intense he longed for a bottle of alcohol to drown his thoughts and his emotions with. But something had awoken in him and he wasn't a pathetic shell of a man anymore. He didn't know if it depended on his desire to fight Loki, to take revenge on him for his mind rape, or on his curiosity regarding their last conversation, but he didn't want to just stay alive without at least trying to really live.

As soon as Loki had spoken that last, cryptic line, he had chosen one of his books and had begun reading it without looking at him anymore, so Tony had gone to the bathroom to have a shower, like he was trying to erase the wrongness of unfamiliar hands touching his Reactor.

It hadn't truly worked, but the shower had made him feel better and, soon after, he had dressed himself in clean clothes, wearing a sweater above the t-shirt in a feeble attempt at feeling safer with more layers between his Reactor and Loki.

It only took the memory of the god's hands on his chest, touching and caressing that one part of him he didn't let anyone touch but Pepper to make him flinch.

It was another violation, after when Loki had made him kneel, after when he had thought that the psychopathic god wanted to abuse him, after when the god's mind had entered his own, digging the worst of his secrets and discovering his deepest fears.

And now Loki knew, _he knew_ , and he would be destroyed.

He sat down on the floor, where he had been spending the night since he had become the god's prisoner. He was waiting for Loki to sneer at him, to insult him and tear his mind to shreds. The god had seen everything, so he knew how to destroy him with mere words. He was so good at understanding people's weaknesses that he managed to unsettle even Natasha, even if the Widow didn't show how much the god's words affected her.

And Tony wasn't a spy: even if he was good at hiding his emotions with irony and sarcasm and apparent indifference, he wasn't as good as Natasha, and Loki had seen his whole mind.

To Schmidt, one sentence had been enough to destroy the illusion Tony had based the last few years of his life on.

Loki could have him crumbling into pieces without any real effort, he could enjoy destroying the little part of Tony that wanted to live again.

Tony studied the god without talking or moving; he felt tense like he was waiting for a hit and knew that this time it would be worse than a punch or a backhand. But Loki didn't even acknowledge his presence and continued reading without lifting his eyes from the book.

After a couple of minutes, Tony couldn't remain still anymore. He stood up, holding his breath in case the god would react to his movement, but nothing happened. After one last hesitation, he exited the room and went to the kitchen.

The fridge was as usual full of a big variety of food and his stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything for the last few hours.

He was still tense, trying to hear if Loki was approaching – even if the bastard was as silent as a cat, and Tony didn't understand how that could be possible, with all the layers of leather that Loki wore – but he sat down and made himself some sandwiches.

Soon, he realized how hungry he was and he ate three of them without pausing, before feeling pleasantly full. It was the first time since the fight against Schmidt that he really enjoyed a meal.

After he almost dozed off on the chair, he forced himself to stand and reached the living room.

The couch was a temptation which promised a deep, comfortable sleep but he wasn't sure Loki would allow him to use it instead of his usual spot on the floor.

In the end, returning to his bedroom seemed to be the best choice, just out of habit. Moreover, he was curious to see if Loki was still reading or if he was starting a new evil plan of some sort.

As soon as he entered the room, he realized that there wouldn't have been any plans, at least not in the immediate future, since the god was still reading. He didn't give Tony any of his attention but he had to have heard him because he stopped browsing through the pages.

“Did you feed yourself enough?”.

It seemed like a harmless question but with Loki, even breathing couldn't probably be harmless.

“Yes” he answered, looking at him with caution.

Loki turned another page.

“Good”.

Without lifting his eyes from the book, the god snapped his fingers and suddenly the usual chains appeared from thin air. This time, Tony managed to take only one step before finding himself thrown onto the bed, with his wrists bound to the bedpost again and his heart beating like crazy inside his chest.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”.

Loki glanced at him with the same bored and condescending look that Tony was used to having when he spoke to one of his competitor engineers, especially to Justin Hammer.

“You fed yourself, you bathed and now you sleep”.

Tony snorted, trying to regain his breath and at least some dignity while he was still bound to the bed. He believed in the fact that Loki truly wanted to let him sleep in his own bed as much as he believed in Santa, but, maybe, if he looked like he was giving up, he would be in a favorable situation.

“Yeah, sure, and the chains are maybe your version of a goodnight kiss?”.

He tried to free his hands, but as always, the chains were too strong and tight. Without his suit, he didn't have any hope to break free and for a moment, he missed the sensation of his armor, his second and safer skin.

Loki lowered the book he was reading onto the bedside table. He didn't even look at Tony when he laid at his side, like sleeping next to his chained prisoner was the most natural thing in the world.

“The chains are to force you to remain still and sleep, instead of wandering inside the house or acting foolishly against me”.

It was his too calm and rational voice that irritated Tony.

“You can ask things, you know? Instead of choosing for non consensual bondage”.

He wouldn't have minded a good night of rest, especially after the last few hours that had left him exhausted and sore all over, but he couldn't accept the casualness that Loki showed while chaining him to the bed. Even now, the god hadn't even turned to face him and all Tony could see was the back of his head.

“Hey, did you hear me, you psycho version of Harry Potter?”.

Loki didn't turn.

“Be silent, mortal”.

Even his voice had sounded more bored than threatening. But Tony wouldn't allow Loki to treat him like he was a capricious child who he shouldn't be giving his attention to, because if there was one thing Tony hated – at least now that he wasn't in Schmidt's grasp and that Loki hadn't actually revealed himself as a rapist – was being ignored.

“Did you want to sleep with me that much?”, he commented, with a voice so loud that he would wake the god if he had already fallen asleep.

This time, he had the satisfaction of seeing his reaction: in the blink of an eye, Loki's back was replaced by a threatening stare with eyes like two cold cracks of green.

“Just say another word, Stark, and I swear by the Nine that I will have you gagged for the whole night”.

It didn't sound like an empty threat, so Tony returned the nasty look but remained silent.

The chains weren't really uncomfortable, after all, and it had been weeks, maybe months since the last time he had been able to sleep on a bed.

Turning his back to the psychopathic god, he relaxed and closed his eyes. He didn't even have the time to realize how strange it felt to be in Loki's bed before he fell asleep.


	37. Chapter 35: Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I'm really sorry I disappeared for so long. Sadly I had been busy with my life and I had to study for the evilest of the exams I ever had. Now, thought, I'm back and if you're still interested in my story I'll try to update more often. And I know this chapter is really short, but the new one is almost ready and I plan to publish it by the end of the week.
> 
> Thank you so much for your support, for your comments and kudos, I loved them all! And special thanks as always go to my beta Sara, for her help and her patience.

**Chapter 35: Nightmares**

 

_He had done it for Odin. He had killed his own father to save the false father that had lied to him his entire life. He knew it and still he had done it all the same because he wanted to be acknowledged. He wanted to be loved and respected and to be the one who made the All-Father proud._

Father, look at me.

_But Odin's gaze was on Thor, Odin smiled only at Thor, acknowledged only Thor, looked only at Thor._

I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!

_He had really believed it when he killed Laufey. He had believed it while he was trying to kill all the monsters, like he had been taught since his childhood. Because maybe, if he managed to kill them all, he would be less a monster himself._

Tell me I'm good enough. Tell me you love me. Tell me that it doesn't matter if I am a monster and that I'm still your son, not a stolen relic kept only for your purpose.

_And maybe the one he had still considered his father back then would have finally acknowledged him._

I am the worthy one, Father. Not Thor. I am.

_Thor was his false, impulsive brother who had always put them in danger. And then, it was up to him to save them all, receiving Thor's derision for his cowardly way to fight and Odin's blame._

_That time, with the Destroyer, he hadn't truly wanted to kill Thor, not really. But for once, he had wanted to be him, the loved son._

“No, Loki”.

_Two words, and everything fell apart._

_He had tried, he had_ really _tried, but it hadn't been enough. Nothing mattered anymore: not his actions, after he had been rejected by both of his fathers; not his desperate desire to be part of a family, because he didn't have one, it had all been a lie; even his own existence didn't matter._

_He froze, like the monster hidden beneath his skin had brought the eternal winter from Jotunheim, while he stared into the only eye Odin possessed, looking at his disappointment –_ if Thor hadn't risked his life to catch me, would you have saved me anyway, Father?

_But Odin wasn't his father, never had been, and now everything made sense._

_He let go one finger at time, without caring of Thor's horrified gaze –_ you are not my brother.

_And then, the void swallowed him whole._

 

 

 

Loki opened his eyes in the dark.

_It was dark, and he was falling and falling and there was no life in that deep, cruel void._

He panted, lifting a hand where green sparkles of magic were ready to kill anything in sight. His growing fury was scorching hot, it was burning his veins and all he wanted to do was to maim and destroy and make someone suffer for this. He searched deep inside himself for power, trembling because of the desire to tear other existences to pieces, to dig his nails into warm flesh and blood, to cancel his own memories with the pain of others.

_Somewhere, Thanos was still torturing him. The darkness was suffocating him and it hurt and it was unbearable and he was alone and cold and empty and a monster who didn't deserve to live._

He almost screamed, out of hate and fear, because he shouldn't have felt so weak and fragile, so easy to hurt.

But something had woken him. Some sort of perception next to his body that had reached his sleeping conscience, alerting it until the nightmare had dissipated in the comforting darkness of his safe-house.

He blinked, ignoring the impulse to unleash his wrath, and his magic slowly disappeared inside himself again.

Next to him, there was a warm body.

Stark laid on his back, his whole body rigid even though he was still asleep. His face showed the same pain Loki felt in the deepest corner of his mind and his rough and irregular breathing sometimes sounded like real whimpers and pieces of begging.

That irritating mortal had awoken him with his nightmares.

He made the chain disappear with a single movement of his hand, wondering which one among his many painful memories was the nightmare that was tormenting his prisoner.

Maybe Stark was dreaming of the other mortals cutting open his chest, maybe he was remembering the father who didn't care about his son – his own flesh and blood, and what a strange thing it was.

He kept studying Stark for a few minutes, trying in vain to understand the few words he was whimpering. And the heavy grip in his chest eased a little while he remained seated on his bed, with his eyes on the mortal.

Maybe that was why he felt generous.

When the mortal whimpered again, he reached for him.

“Stark, if you do not stop disturbing me, I will make you sleep on the floor again”.


	38. Chapter 36: Facing the enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I have an amazing beta, here it is the new update! So thank you, Sara, for your help and your incredible speed at correcting this chapter, and thanks to eveyone who still reads my story. I'm sorry, no Tony and no Loki in this chapter, but the next ones will be full of the two and I won't make you wait too much for them. For now, thank you for your comments and kudos, I hope you'll enjoy the reading.

**Chapter 36: Facing the enemy**

 

“You can stare at me as much as you like, Director, but that won't change the fact that you're all going to die”.

Fury didn't show any emotions while he looked at the smirking skull that the first enemy of the S.H.I.E.L.D. had as a face. Johann Schmidt still showed the signs of Thor's aggression, a testament of the Norse god's strength, since he had managed to impress his fingers' mark into a superhuman soldier. Or maybe Schmidt was still weakened from his fight against Loki and his healing factor hadn't been able to kick in since then.

For a moment, Fury remembered the day that Loki was the one imprisoned in the Helicarrier in the place of Red Skull. But back then, Loki had wanted to be captured, it had been all part of his plan, as his smug and ironical behavior had proved.

Inside the glass cell that had once contained the god, Schmidt couldn't be more different. Even if he still showed a defiant grin, he was only a defeated man, a fallen enemy who kept breathing only because he wanted to see the people around him dying too.

He was weak, despite the lack of fear on his face. His missing arm was the most evident proof of his defeat and he was so tense, he looked like he would never be able to relax anymore during his lifetime. He had mad, erractic eyes and he seemed like he was one of the junior agents who had just seen death too close.

Fury wasn't sure he really wanted to know if that was what the sight of Thanos had caused in one of the most ruthless and powerful enemies S.H.I.E.L.D. had – but he _had_ to know, it was his job, his value and at the same time his damnation, because he had to protect humanity at all cost, even from information which were too dangerous to be divulged.

“I only wanted to see how low the infamous Red Skull had fallen”. He stared down at him. “I guess your fight against Rogers had been a piece of cake in comparison to what Loki did to you”.

Loki was the key. He or Thanos. Natasha had told him so, after the last interrogation which had ended with Thor almost strangling Red Skull and with that chilling, crazy laughter that still now echoed inside his head.

Schmidt could react with indifference towards threats and provocations, but the mentions of Loki and Thanos upset him; they were the key to make him lose his composure, the means to crack his defenses.

For a moment, he wondered what Loki had done to him, apart from taking his arm. Then, Schmidt began laughing.

“You have no idea of what the power in this war will be, Director”. It wasn't a mad laughter, and that made Fury sharpen the gaze of his only eye. “Loki had just played with you all. And Thanos... Thanos can make Loki seem a helpless child”. The laughter stopped, but his grin remained like a stain in his bloody red face. “And now tell me, Director, what can your Hulk do, or your god of thunder, or your patriotic Captain, or your couple of assassins against a being who can destroy a whole world?”.

“What they've always done: winning and saving the Earth”.

Schmidt shook his head, a brief flick of amusement crossing his tired eyes.

“You do not understand. But I guess no one who didn't meet _him_ can”. He was serious again, now, erasing every detail of the defeated man he had looked only a couple of seconds earlier. “So, what do you want from me, apart from a reassurance that I'm not going to give you?”.

He wasn't lying. Maybe it was a wrong evaluation, or maybe it was the truth. Either way, Schmidt really believed that this Thanos was such a dangerous, bloodthirsty opponent.

“What do you think?”.

Schmidt looked at him more intently, his half-closed eyes studying his face like he wanted to catch his thoughts.

“You didn't send to me your spy with icy eyes, so it's not an interrogation, or maybe you know she wouldn't be able to make me talk if I didn't want to. But you came to me in person, without your precious Avengers, without any witnesses, and that makes me think you want to negotiate”.

Fury didn't show any changes in his expression.

“Or maybe I'm here to kill you”.

Red Skull was dangerous, even as a defeated opponent. Killing him would be the most sensible decision, still...

Schmidt's answer was to laugh again.

“If that was the case, you would have sent to me your spy, to dirty her hands in your place”.

Ignoring his provocation, Fury took a step forward.

“What did you do to Stark, while he was your prisoner?”.

If it was true that Thanos was able to destroy entire worlds, like also Thor had said, then they needed all the support they could receive. They had to assemble a global army, unifying as many countries as possible in a difficult alliance against an alien threat. And Stark was the single most important man to have on their side. More than Iron Man, it was his genius and his resources that would be priceless during the incoming war.

“The Director of the S.H.I.E.L.D. looking concerned about one single man's well-being? It doesn't add up to your fame”.

“Stark is a precious resource”.

“You're thinking that only because you haven't seen him recently”. Schmidt's teeth showed between his lips when he smiled, a flash of a white in a red face. “And pray tell, what are you offering me in exchange of some information about Stark?”.

“Your life. You'll remain in this pretty little cage but you'll be allowed to live and breathe and, who knows, maybe instead of a visit from agent Romanoff you'll be delivered some food or a couple of magazines”.

Schmidt looked around his cell with an amused expression.

“It almost seems a sweet bargain. Lifelong detention instead of a violent death or slow torture?”.

“It's more than you can hope to obtain from me”.

And it was more than he wanted the Avengers to know.

“So tell me, Director. What are your questions?”.

“Why did you spare Stark's life?”.

The silence in the room became as suffocating as a shroud, while Schmidt reflected on his question.

“I wanted him to build a new weapon for me”, he finally said.

“A weapon to conquer the world or to get yourself rid of Thanos with?”.

Fury had the time to catch a glimpse of surprise on his face before the Nazi met his only eye with an impassive stare.

“Because I wanted power, of course. You should know that better than anyone”.

“And what about the tortures? Were they part of your great plan, too?”.

The blood that Natasha had collected inside the empty cell had been analyzed and recognized as Stark's. Moreover, Fury knew that Schmidt would never treat his prisoners kindly, especially if one of his prisoners was Stark. He would enjoy breaking an enemy and he was more dangerous than simple terrorists like the Ten Rings. Schmidt knew how to inflict pain in a way that would break even S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and Stark was a civilian in that regard. But Stark was also the genius who possessed unlimited resources, that even Fury hadn't be able to quantify or to understand.

“The tortures were extras. Sweet, delicious extras, but I didn't damage him too bad, since I needed him sane and functioning. Of course, you and I could disagree on what sane means”.

“What have you done to him?”.

A man like Tony Stark couldn't die so easily and unnoticed. He had been able to escape from the Ten Rings with a hole in his chest and, despite his self-destroying attitude, he still was able to stay alive among alien invasion and terrorists and enemies with magical power.

Fury knew a fighter when he met one. But days had passed without any signs of Stark and that worried him.

Schmidt closed the distance between them until he almost touched the glass wall of his cell with his forehead, while his face resembled a grinning skull.

“I broke him, Director. Of the man you know, only his name remains”.

“You're saying you broke Tony Stark?”. This time, it was his turn to smile. “It's clear then that you really don't know shit about him”.


	39. Chapter 37: Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your latest comments and kudos! And special thanks as always go to my beta Sara, thank you darling.
> 
> Warnings: (quite) graphic depiction of violence and child murder. Also, some Tony!whump.

**Chapter 37: Darkness**

 

_They were all staring at him._

_They had come to save him, but no one was smiling, no one was reaching for him, no one was coming closer._

_They all knew. They_ knew _, and he couldn't breathe._

“ _I didn't want it”._

_The Hulk crushed him between his massive arms, smashing his ribs, and Tony found himself with his mouth and lungs full of blood._

“ _I'm sorry”._

_Bruce cleaned his glasses with the hem of his sweater._

“ _It seems like now we're both monsters”. He put his glasses on again giving him a hard stare, one Tony had never seen from him, before. “But at least I have an excuse to be a monster”._

“ _Please”, he begged._

 _Steve looked at him with the same contempt Tony sometimes imagined in his father's expression,_ _when Howard deigned to give him a glimpse of his attention._

“ _Big man in a suit of armor”. He hit Tony fully in his face, shattering his cheekbone. “Take that off, what are you?”._

_Tony fell to his knees._

“ _I'm begging you”._

_Rhodey kicked his stretched out arm._

“ _Now you have no worth. Neither with your suit, nor without it”._

_And then, they disappeared one by one and Tony remained alone._

_In the darkness, only he existed._

_He couldn't breathe because his desperation had closed his lungs, his fingers were digging inside an invisible, dirty ground and he searched in vain for something to hold onto, because now he was falling, he was falling forever..._

“ _Tony”._

_He lifted his head with a strangled gasp, finding himself facing the person he loved the most in the entire world. Her eyes were shiny because of the tears and the disappointment inside them was more painful than the sensation of his chest being cut open, back then in Afghanistan._

“ _Pepper...”._

_He reached for her with a trembling hand, but she shook her head and began to cry, tears staining her cheeks._

“ _How could you?”._

_Tony lowered his gaze and his response remained stuck inside his throat. There was the little girl, in his arms. A light, little body which was still warm. Her eyes were open like she was staring into nothingness and shards of her skull and her blood were all around the tiny bullet hole in her head._

_Then, her glassy eyes turned to him, erasing his ability to think._

“ _Why didn't you save me?”._

_And he suddenly had his chest cut open again, and his own hands were ripping his heart from his body, while Pepper faded away and he screamed and screamed..._

 

 

 

“Stark, if you do not stop disturbing me, I will make you sleep on the floor again”.

He opened his eyes with the scream still stuck inside his throat, while the familiar voice made the faces of his tormentors disappear.

What remained of his heart was beating so fast he almost couldn't hear anything else, but he wasn't in his home, Steve, Bruce or Rhodey were nowhere to be seen, neither was Pepper, even if her voice was still echoing inside his head.

He took a trembling breath, forcing himself to block the panic attack he could feel rising in his heaving chest.

He blinked in the darkness, trying to recognize the place that surrounded him, ignoring the constriction of his lungs. As soon as he remembered where he was, his breaths came easier and his tense body began relaxing a bit. Even his desperation wasn't an abyss under his feet anymore, ready to swallow him whole, but only the black ground he had become so used to stepping on during his life.

He fought to erase the last images of his nightmare.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

There was no one.

He was still in Loki's grasp, still his prisoner, and no one knew his faults.

He closed his eyes, pressing his eyelids with such strength he could see dots darker than the night's darkness that surrounded the room. Then, he opened his eyes again, finding the god so close he was almost within touching range. Through the dark, it seemed that Loki's expression was irritated at best, promising some painful punishment, and Tony felt the urge to laugh, because even if it was a crazy thing, he found the god oddly reassuring.

Loki wasn't accusing him, wasn't making him feel guiltier than he already felt, and didn't look at him like he didn't deserve to breathe. Loki didn't hate him, or maybe he did, but either way Tony wouldn't care. It was better that his friends, that Pepper and the other Avengers believed he was dead, than facing their stares when they discovered what he had done.

_And Loki... Loki had told him it hadn't been his fault._

He breathed again, deeply, and was surprised to realize how much easier it was to breathe, now that he knew he had Loki close to him, instead of his friends.

Even if the god had woken him only to threaten him, he had taken his conscience away from his nightmares, allowing him to escape from the worst of his guilt. It didn't matter that it had been a gesture born out of selfishness: Loki had saved him from his own subconscious and he was grateful for it.

He focused on the god, waiting for his heart to regain a slower rhythm.

In the faint light caused by a moon Tony didn't know was real or illusory, Loki seemed paler and more mysterious than usual. The contrast between his black hair and the white as snow face, where two bright green eyes stood out from, reminded Tony of one of the supernatural beings from some old tale, one of the spirits who visited mortals to torment them or simply to give their lives a touch of magic.

For a moment, the most impulsive part of him wanted to reach for the god's face, wondering if he would really touch a concrete being or if he would simply pass through like Loki had been made out of thin air. He even lifted his arm before letting it fall down abruptly, as soon as he really realized what insane action he had been about to do.

But he couldn't lie to himself: somehow, the sight of Loki calmed him.

He was his enemy, the psychopath who probably would torture him for information that would be used against his friends during one of his attempts at conquering the Earth; but, at the same time, Loki had seen the horror he was guilty of and didn't condemn him for it. Loki had done worse and his own faults seemed to fade when he was in the god's presence.

“Why are you not returning to sleep?”.

Even Loki's threatening voice didn't send chills or fear or irritation along his spine like it should have done.

“I'm not tired”.

There were cold shadows at the edge of his conscience that were only waiting for him to fall asleep, so that they could rip his heart to shreds like they were doing only a few minutes before.

Schmidt's face was right behind his eyelids, his laughing skull which was ready to show him again how easy it was to make a false hero crumble into dust – _but Loki had killed him, he had said he had torn Red Skull to pieces, and still Tony couldn't completely believe it_.

It was better if he remained awake, if he focused his thoughts on something, maybe a new invention, so that he wouldn't remember the terrible things he had done.

Loki's gaze hardened.

“Mine was not an advice, Stark”.

For some strange, _sick_ reason, the god reminded him of Pepper.

“I don't care. Whatever it was, I have no intention of following it”. He had never been good on following other people's advice. Or their threats, or their pleas, or their exhortations. Actually, every time he heard some words that seemed even like a vague way to make him do something, he felt the urge to do the exact opposite. “I said I'm not tired and for all I care, you can give me the evil stare all night long, but that won't make me change my mind. Quite the opposite, in fact, since your crazy, psycho killer look gives me a lot of doubts regarding how good it would be for me to fall asleep next to you”.

“Oh, by the Nine.”. Loki's hand reached for him, together with the exasperated sound of his voice. “I cannot believe that I found you irritating when you did not speak”.

Tony wasn't fast enough, and the god's fingers touched his temple before he could avoid them. He tried to push away, because he didn't want another mind violation, he couldn't live through all of that again, _and please, please, not again, please no more_.

But a warm sensation spread from Loki's fingers to his head, carrying inside his body a deep, reassuring weariness that stopped him from moving. He closed his eyes without any fear, letting his body fall down on the mattress, feeling the same exhaustion he felt after working nonstop in his lab for thirty hours.

Only for one moment, he remembered the last nightmare with a shiver, but this time the shadows that had invaded his conscience while he was sleeping, remained too far away to hurt him and Tony fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	40. Chapter 38: Breakfast time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, here I finally have my last chapter. It's longer than usual and definitely less angsty, so I hope you'll like it. Also, if you're a Twilight fan, please don't be offended while you read the chapter, it's just a joke.
> 
> Thank you for all your wonderful comments and kudos, you're too kind! And special thanks go to my beta Sara, thank you so much darling!

**Chapter 38: Breakfast time**

 

He cursed soundly, telling Jarvis to buy him a new kitchen.

Then he cursed again, this time without calling for his AI, because he remembered that he wasn't in his own kitchen and that it would have been better if he didn't make too much noise while his captor was hiding in his secret room instead of threatening him or trying to strangle him –  _every time he swallowed he felt like he had broken glass stuck inside his throat, thank you so much, you psychopathic alien god with an inferiority complex towards your Barbie-man brother._

He put his burnt finger inside his mouth, cursing now only mentally, then he tried for the second time to flip what should have been an omelet.

And it was strange that a genius like him couldn't cook anything without risking his appendages while he was able to effortlessly use lasers, blowtorches and engines, and to create a particle accelerator with the scraps he had inside his lab without so much as a scratch.

Probably it was because he really wasn't interested in something as trivial as cooking, but now he felt the need for some warm and more satisfying food than the usual cold sandwiches.

He took his finger out from his mouth and, when he decided that the second omelet had a good color, he managed to put it on a plate without letting it fall on the floor. He wasn't completely sure that they could be qualified as real omelets, since he had used a huge variety of ingredients, but both of them looked nice and appetizing, and the flavor was mouthwatering.

Sadly, he hadn't found any coffee and even after the last few caffeine-free months, he craved it. Maybe, if he told his personal tormenter about it, a pack of coffee would appear somewhere in the kitchen.

He shook his head while he carried the two plates with the omelets to the table. That had been an absurd thought, asking Loki for a kindness was probably the first step towards pure madness.

He served a glass of orange juice for himself, still regretting the lack of coffee; then, he filled a second glass with the same juice and put it next to the other plate. For the final touch, he put the toasted bread with the butter at the center of the table.

He was quite satisfied with his ability of making breakfast.

He tasted his omelet, the bigger one, with a light hum of appreciation. Sure, maybe a more refined palate would have found the omelet a bit burnt, but to him, it was the most delicious food he had eaten in months – if the glass of scotch Loki had offered him didn't count as food.

He was half way through his omelet when Loki appeared. The god had the surly expression that made him resemble Harry Potter's Snape and the vaguely snob attitude typical of an old, disdainful lord. Two possibilities came across Tony's mind: either the evil plan Loki was about to start didn't come out like he wanted, or his divine sense of smell was so delicate that he took notice Tony hadn't taken his morning shower yet.

The disdainful look on Loki's face disappeared into a confused expression as soon as he saw the table set for two, where Tony's prideful work of the whole morning was on display.

The god's green eyes shifted from the untouched omelet to him, then they returned to the omelet like he couldn't comprehend the sight of it.

Tony counted it like a win, since he had never seen him confused, before: he had managed to frustrate him, to irritate him, to anger him and make him lose his control, but it was the first time he saw Loki really gobsmacked.

After one last stare, the god turned his back to the table and took a glass of water, ignoring the glass full of orange juice that Tony had prepared for him. The genius waited for a few seconds before deciding he didn't want to be ignored any further.

“Why aren't you eating? You scared you won't be able to fit in your SM- leather pants anymore?”

Loki turned abruptly to face him with his usual predator elegance, which was almost annoying, since no psychopathic emperor wannabe should have been able to move like a feline with all that leather he was wearing.

“And what are the reasons behind your offer?” he asked, approaching the table.

Tony shrugged, eating the last piece of his omelet and chewing it with gusto.

“I was curious. Do you feed on souls, or do you eat normal food like us mortals?”.

He didn't stop looking at him for even one second, interested in what his reaction would be. Loki was still staring at the untouched omelet with the same intensity he would have reserved to an enemy.

The god seemed unsure, like he felt more at ease with offenses and provocations, than the offer of breakfast. Then, it seemed he finally made a decision, since he sat on the free chair and grabbed a fork to study the contents of his plate with. He prodded the omelet before tipping it over, like he was looking for a trap.

His eyes were so full of suspicion that Tony had the urge to steal his food and be the one who ate it. However, before he could act, Loki cut a little piece of the omelet and took it into his mouth, chewing it warily. Even when he had fought against the Avengers, he hadn't showed such caution.

All things considered, Tony could have been offended by his behavior.

When he had made breakfast, he had only used edible components. He hadn't found anything poisonous in the kitchen – apart from strawberries, if Loki had been Pepper, which luckily wasn't the case. Actually, he found it strange, now that he was thinking about it, but not once had he thought of looking for a way to hurt the god. That morning, he had woken after a whole night of good sleep without nightmares and he had been in a good mood ever since.

He didn't even remember the last time he had slept more than two hours without waking up in the darkness, trembling and panting, with his breath stuck in his throat and his back damp with cold sweat.

And okay, he didn't really want to feel grateful towards Loki, especially since the fever and the breakdown he had almost had had been the god's fault. But he hadn't found the idea of sharing breakfast so bad, after Loki had gifted him with some hours of precious, peaceful sleep.

He swung on his chair while looking at the god, repressing the impulse of tapping on his Reactor, since he didn't want to draw attention to it.

When Loki finished his omelet, to Tony it was like a victory.

“Well, no enthusiastic clapping or moved words of appreciation with joyful tears?”, he commented, and immediately Loki reacted resuming his Snape expression.

“It was acceptable”, he conceded, before he stood up and cleaned the plates with a swift movement of his fingers. “For a mortal”.

“You know, I don't know if I should take it as a compliment or if I should see how much your hair is impervious to orange juice”.

He wouldn't have done that. Not really, since even he wasn't  _so_ suicidal, but the temptation was there, his fingers were quivering because of the urge to try, much like he felt when he provoked Bruce to see if he would be able to make his friend hulk-out.

Loki smiled his most beautiful and dangerous psychopathic smile of his repertoire, the one he had reserved for Natasha during their confrontation on the Helicarrier – Tony had seen the video feed and he had found it creepy.

“Try it, Stark, and I shall let you experiment how it feels to have that juice in the place of your blood”.

“Can you really do that?”, Tony asked, without knowing if he was more curious or more horrified at the idea.

“Yes. And now, go have some rest somewhere and do not tire yourself. I am tired of bearing your weakened condition. If you take the form of that pathetic trembling heap of mortal flesh again, I will not hesitate to kill you myself.”

With a last, warning glance, Loki left the room. He probably wanted to hide again in his secret room, but Tony wasn't keen on letting him go away so easily. He intercepted the god in the living room, smiling sweetly.

“I didn't know you were already so fond of me”.

The glare he received in return gave him a shiver, but his smile didn't falter.

“Do not misunderstand, Stark. I only healed you because I have no use of a dying prisoner. If you are dying, you shall be in that condition because I was the one who put you there”.

“Okay, you're evil and you want my head and so on, nothing new. By the way, why haven't you started torturing me, yet? Or tried to make me your ally? Or at least done something?”, Tony asked, before he could stop himself.

Yes, congrats for the wonderful idea of instigating his kidnapper to torment him. But it wasn't the first time his tongue moved faster than his brain – which was awfully fast, since he was able to think at lightning speed.

Loki seemed to think the same, because he looked at him with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Do you have an urgency to be in pain?”.

“I just value my time. You can lose hours to decide which nail polish would make your hair stand out the most, but I'm no immortal and I'd like to use my time in a more productive way”.

Not that he actually knew what to do, even if Loki allowed him to go out – the only thought of meeting Pepper or his friends was enough to terrorize him, and he didn't want to think about it, not now that he was almost feeling good.

But, in truth, he was bored. Bored to death.

Without anything to do, when the dangerous presence of Loki wasn't there to distract him, he was alone with his thoughts. He had always found apathy insufferable, way before the time when he couldn't stand to be alone with himself. Now, with too many thoughts he wanted to escape from, it was simply torment.

“Do not worry, you shall have your moment when I will make you beg”. Loki smiled at him. “In the meanwhile, you can always wonder what I am going to do to you”.

“In the meanwhile, you could at least give me some books”. Or a screwdriver and some components to build a device capable of creating an anti-magic field. “And I mean English books, thanks, not books written in some alien languages”.

With an exasperated sigh, Loki lifted a hand and a green light surrounded his fingers. A second later, without any warning, Tony found himself with four heavy books between his arms. He looked at them, and indeed they were in the English language, but as soon as he recognized the covers, he swallowed down the thanks he had almost said to the god.

“You're joking, right?”.

He let go of the entire Twilight saga throwing it on the couch like it could bite him.

At his side, Loki had the same satisfied expression as a cat who had just killed and eaten the little canary which had been on his kill list for years.

“You asked me for something to read”, the god said, but the evil, wicked smile that flashed on his lips told Tony that he knew exactly what kind of books he had brought him. _The bastard_. “Now, Stark, be a good boy and take an early leave for your bed. It will be good for you if I do not find you awake when I return here”.

He didn't even give Tony the time to reply, since he was gone as soon as he finished speaking, leaving the Avenger with the only company of those four books.

Tony looked at them with a disgusted expression, wondering what would have been more harmful: trying to read the saga aimed at teen girls in love with sparkly vampires, or staring at the wall without anything to do. 

“You know, Rudolph? You really are a son of a bitch”.


	41. Chapter 39: A little gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I made you wait for so long. This is a short chapter, but next one will be a lot longer, I can assure you.
> 
> Thank you so much for your feedbacks, I love them all and I'm glad you're still reading my story! Special thanks as always go to my beta Sara, thank you darling for all your help and your patience.

**Chapter 39: A little gift**

 

Even after Loki reached another one of the lairs he had on Midgard, the mortal was still on his mind.

He was getting used to Stark's presence in his home and he wasn't sure he was happy about it. During the night, he had realized how normal it felt having the Avenger in the same room as he was, or interrupting his work to make sure his prisoner's condition hadn't worsened, or noticing if he was eating and sleeping like a frail mortal like him should have. And he was expecting to see him when he was at home, which was a surprising and slightly irritating realization.

Now he felt the need to be alone. He needed to concentrate, without thinking of the mortal just on the other side of the door, that maybe was trying to burst into his study or making some other foolish attempt at endangering his life.

The spell he had cast on him, a day and a half before, had made him sleep without any nightmares for twenty-six hours straight, which had allowed him to work at his plan against Thanos undisturbed. But that morning, Stark had surprised him.

It had been long since he last had allowed himself to share someone else's food, when he still hadn't had to fear being poisoned: it had been before his war against Midgard, before Thanos and the Chitauri, before discovering the lie that his false father had sealed into his skin. And the strange food Stark had cooked tasted funny, but after the first bite it hadn't been too awful.

In exchange for breakfast, the mortal hadn't asked for anything, and Loki couldn't understand the reason for his course of action. Maybe Stark wanted to be on his good side, enforcing the truce between them with a courteous behavior so that he wouldn't violate his mind a second time. Maybe he was just bored, or maybe him making breakfast had been a sort of thanks for the sleep without nightmares.

Not that the reason really mattered, to Loki.

Stark was broken and alone, a condition he knew too well first hand.

Having his most interesting enemy so weak and psychologically frail wasn't something he had planned, but he liked the idea of Stark behaving almost friendly and definitely without hostility in his regard. Trust, gratitude and respect were the strings to make his puppets move without them knowing. He would gladly welcome Stark as an unusual ally.

He let his thoughts wander towards his home, focusing on the kitchen. Then, with a small amount of his powers, he conjured a bottle of that Midgardian beverage the mortal was so fond of, that amber alcohol that seemed like it contained most of Stark's answers.

Thinking of the mortal's reaction to his gift was the last moment of peace Loki allowed himself, before thinning his lips into a hard line.

He couldn't wait anymore.

His grip on his scepter was already so hard that his knuckles were almost white.

He forced himself to sit on the soft carpet that adorned the floor and found closing his eyes more difficult than it should have been. He was about to throw himself into the living nightmare he had barely managed to escape from the last time, and every inch of his body knew the horrors that awaited him.

Thanos had shattered his mind and he had had to struggle with all of his will to rebuild himself. He had succeeded, in a way. And he wasn't exactly whole now, but maybe he hadn't been that way since he had discovered the truth about his identity.

But there was a deep, painful scar inside his mind, where Thanos had hurt him; a memory of pain and horror and pure, white terror that still now threatened to swallow his rationality –  _and a part of him was still there, on that forgotten place in the darkness, and he was trapped by the Titan's laughter and his words were digging into his broken soul to destroy him even more, to hurt him with the knowledge that no one would have saved him, no one would have looked for him, no one would have ever even said his name anymore._

For a moment, he wasn't able to breathe. He wanted to postpone it, to live another day in peace and ignorance. But it was already late and he had to know how many days he could still spend playing with the Avengers and with the Midgardians before his time and the time of every other Realm would be up.

He breathed deeply, pulling back into himself, looking for the darkest corner of his mind where he kept his worst memories trapped. There, he found that terrifying moment when he had met the creature that even the Jotuns would call monster. And then the reassuring atmosphere of his lair disappeared from his reality and his mind was filled with darkness.

 

 

 

He gave up on Twilight after less than a chapter and the fact that he had actually tried to read it was the greatest proof of how much he was bored. The offenses and the curses he had yelled at Loki while he was in an empty living room had granted him a small amount of satisfaction, but when it had become clear that the god wouldn't have showed himself to avenge his outraged honor, all the satisfaction had disappeared.

Now he was walking aimlessly inside the house, with his fingers that yearned for a screwdriver, his hands that missed his computers and the sensation that his skin was too tight for his body.

He was still quite weakened, since his fever had left him without much strength, but he couldn't simply sit down or worse, lay down somewhere.

_Had he really spent entire days sitting in the darkness while he tried to erase his own conscience? Trying not to exist anymore?_

It was a strange thought knowing that Loki had taken care of him. In a non conventional way, since it had been Loki, but still, the god had managed to heal him without removing his internal organs or mutilating him.

And okay, probably Loki had done it so that he could have a prisoner fit to be interrogated, but the god still hadn't started with the torture, which confused him.

Not that he really wanted to be tortured, like the suicidal part of his mind had almost told Loki some time before, but the silence was crushing him, the boredom was unbearable and that oppressing solitude made him prefer even an angry, homicidal Loki than no one. While he was alone with himself and nothing to do, it was too difficult to ignore the hard grip on his chest and the painful memories he was trying so desperately to repress.

He kicked the books that the god had brought him, which were now on the floor after he had thrown them away one by one.

“Come out, Rock of Ages! How many hours do you need to straighten your fucking hair?”

His hands were trembling.

Somewhere inside his mind, a little girl with a bloodstained face was trying to get his attention; between her braided hair, the bullet hole stood out like a wordless accusation. Mangled corpses were lying in the dust, lives taken away at an age that should have never gifted them with a coffin. Somewhere, his chest hurt and he couldn't breathe.

He pulled down the hem of his t-shirt, trying to alleviate the oppression he felt on his throat.

He knew that, if he had been in his lab, in his reassuring, personal sanctuary, everything would have gone well.

He would have worked on one of his inventions, or maybe he would have created a second Dummy. Everything to keep his mind occupied. It was his way of reacting to bear the worst events in his life: he pretended not to see the unpleasantness of what should have been a perfect life, he isolated himself from the world and waited for the bad things to pass; and then, he resurfaced from his lab with some new inventions that would amaze the world. It was his way to cope: this, and the alcohol.

He had done it with Pepper too.

Her name was like a punch to the chest, sudden and painful, carrying too many memories, too many wrongdoings he had done to her, too many regrets and too much fear. He tried in vain to fight against his own mind.

Her face appeared behind his closed eyes and it took his breath away.


	42. Chapter 40: Pepper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an unbeated chapter, and I'm sorry for all the mistakes, but I didn't want to make you wait anymore. As soon as my beta send me the corrected chapter, I'm going to replace this with it. I just hope it's kind of readable, for now.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for your feedbacks, you're too kind!
> 
> Edit: Chapter corrected by my beta Sara.Thank you, darling.

**Chapter 40: Pepper**

 

_It hadn't been the same anymore, after New York._

_In the beginning, there had been recriminations, used as weapons during the first fight._

“ _You didn't even answer the phone. It could have been my last call, the last time I had the possibility to talk to you, and I had been answered by the voice mail!”._

“ _Because I was watching you die! Do you have any idea of what that had been, to me? What it was like?”._

_It was the first time he had seen Pepper cry. Really crying, not that single joyful tear she had shown when he had come back after Afghanistan. It had been the most painful sight he had ever experienced in relation to her, while he was keeping her in his arms, whispering in her ear broken apologies and meaningless words._

_In that moment, he had realized how terrified he was to lose her._

_Maybe she had felt the same, or maybe she hadn't realized yet with how frail their relationship was._

_She had accepted his hug and his comfort, and that evening she had come down into his lab to coax him into the bedroom, where they had made love without a word about their morning argument._

_They had resisted a few more months. There had been good moments, like when he had brought her to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Just the two of them into the sky, because they hadn't used the elevator or the stairs, but his suit for a slow, peaceful flight. Or when Pepper had taken him to one of Bruce's conferences as a surprise and later they had spent the night watching the trilogy of Back to the Future while cuddling on the couch, until they both dozed off one against the other._

_But there had been bad moments too, when they had behaved like two strangers. Pepper was busy for the most part of the day with her job as his CEO and he hid in his lab, working on some new prototype for hours and even days straight, or was called together with the other Avengers to fight against a random enemy – Doom, some unnamed terrorists, mostly Loki._

_They lived together but sometimes they didn't see each other for days and Tony didn't know which one of them was avoiding the other._

_Pepper was the one who had the courage to bring up the problems of their relationship, just a couple of days before the one week holiday they should have spent in Hawaii together._

“ _Tony,” she had said, entering the lab where he had been spending the last thirty-six hours._

“ _Mh”._

“ _We have a problem”._

_Only then had he lifted his gaze from the glove of his latest prototype he was working on to directly look at her._

_Pepper was wearing an immaculate, elegant tallier, her hair was neatly combed into the perfect image of efficiency and she was carrying a folder that probably contained dozens of fundamental documents for his company. But her face was tense, she had sad eyes and Tony didn't have a doubt that it wouldn't have been a business meeting._

“ _Of course we have a problem. The chips that exited from my fifth research facility, for example. They're crap, they shortcircuit any other day. I put the last batch of them in my suit and the glove almost caught fire when I tried to move a finger”, he had replied, before turning his eyes back to the glove on his hand._

_Pepper had pursed her lips._

“ _Don't you dare, Tony. I have no intention of pretending that everything is fine just because you are not mature enough to behave like an adult and talk about our problems”._

_She was gorgeous, more than beautiful. He was wearing a grease stained wife beater and hadn't showered for at least three days._

_He had sighed in defeat, putting down the glove and standing in front of her._

“ _All right”._

_He had found himself looking slightly up to meet her eyes, while his Reactor hurt and he had the unpleasant feeling that everything was going out of his control, like he was a small man facing a situation too big for him. He had always known that Pepper in heels was taller than him, but in that moment he felt like he was in Afghanistan again, with the smell of sand, blood and sweat in his nostrils and a hole in his chest; when everything was slipping through his fingers._

_Pepper was his balance, the person he loved and cared about the most in all the universe. He couldn't lose her._

“ _I'm listening. For real”._

_Pepper had taken a deep breath._

“ _You can pretend everything's all right, but you know it's not. And don't try to negate that”._

“ _To negate what?”._

_For only one second, he had thought he had seen Pepper's lips tremble._

“ _That we don't work together”._

“ _What are you saying, Pepper?”._

_It was true that they had problems, but he loved Pepper and Pepper loved him._

_She had shaken her head and her tearful eyes had hit him like a punch in the face._

“ _I can't be your girlfriend and your best friend, your baby-sitter, your psychologist, your CEO. It's too much, Tony. You have to choose”._

“ _Between having you as a girlfriend or as a CEO?”._

“ _Between you being my boyfriend, my boss, the immature man that hides in his lab to avoid facing his problems and a superhero”._

_He had massaged his temples with two fingers, sighing, and had tried to not show how much her words had hurt him, reminding him of the bitter taste of defeat he had always felt when he had failed in gaining his father's attention and affection._

“ _You know what we do? We go to Hawaii as we decided, you abandon your heels and I my suit, we rest, we spend some time together and we come back here happy and good as new”._

_He hadn't had to wait for her words to know that she had already decided._

“ _No, Tony. A holiday can't magically solve our problems. We come back here, and you'll still be Tony Stark and Iron Man, and I'll still have to face responsibilities I'm not able to bear, and we'll begin to avoid each other for days again, without solving anything, until we become two strangers. I prefer it to be over now, when we can still look at each other”._

_Nothing he had said managed to change her mind, so his pride had suggested mean words to hurt her. He had regretted them the moment they had left his lips, but even then Pepper had understood and hadn't replied with the same anger._

_She had left after half an hour, telling him she wanted to go on holiday by herself and to not look for her, and he had listened while his mind was focusing on another, meaningless invention just to ignore the cold feeling inside his chest._

_And then, he had remained alone._

_He would have drunk himself to coma if Pepper hadn't had the irritating common sense to tell Jarvis to keep him away from alcohol._

_She had always been so perfectly efficient, even in breaking up with him._

_Tony still didn't know how he could have survived those days. He had spent as many hours as he could in the lab, until Rhodey had come looking for him and had forcefully taken him to his bedroom, threatening to sleep next to him if Tony didn't allow himself some sleep._

_That had been Pepper's fault too, since she had been the one to warn Rhodey of the break up._

_Somehow, Tony managed to go on living, busing himself between his new suit and a couple of new projects. But he was always aware that his fate would be loneliness, because Pepper had been the right one and if it hadn't worked with her, then he would never be able to find anyone to spend his life with._

_He had missed her like someone could miss a limb. He had missed her as a friend more than as a girlfriend and he had realized he wasn't able to imagine his life without her in it._

_Then, ten days had passed, leaving him exhausted and empty, with the bitter feeling of having failed again and worse than ever, and Pepper had come back. She had reached him in his lab with her heels and her impeccable clothes, more serene and beautiful than ever._

_He had wanted to kiss her, but more than everything he had wanted to simply hear her voice._

“ _You're here again”._

“ _It seems so”._

“ _Does that mean you're giving us another chance?”._

_He had had to ask her, even if he had felt like a stupid protagonist of a romantic b-movie the moment those words had come out of his mouth._

“ _No. We are a terrible couple. But I don't want to abandon you, Tony”. Her smile had been faltering but the simply sight of it had made him breathe easier. It had been the most beautiful thing he had seen for the last few days. “I just need some time”._

_For once, Tony hadn't had any words to say. He had been so relieved that Pepper wasn't saying farewell that he had felt like he had forgotten how to speak. The proudest, most hurt part of him had wanted to say something ironical, something mean to show her that he hadn't missed her and her return meant nothing to him because he didn't need her in his life. Those lies, however, hadn't been able to pass through his lips._

“ _Okay”, he had finally agreed. “But this week will be deducted from your paid holidays, Pep”._

_Pepper's smile had widened and suddenly Tony had found himself at ease._

“ _That's okay, you still owe me two months of vacation anyway”._

 

 

Tony returned to reality feeling like he had been immersed in cold water for minutes and like his lungs didn't work properly anymore.

For Pepper and him, it had been difficult and awkward to see each other as friends and not lovers anymore. She hadn't given up on their friendship, though, so he had had to do the same and try to rebuild what had been between them before they became a couple.

After a few weeks since her return, she had again become a regular presence in his days, controlling that he ate or slept enough and that he didn't miss too many meetings at work, in the testament that she hadn't lied when she had told him she didn't want to abandon him.

The moment he had realized it – that Pepper would never abandon him, not like his parents had done, not like any other person he had cared for had done – he had found it bearable to have her as his best friend instead of his girlfriend.

Little by little, the estrangement of the last days of their relationship had disappeared.

He still missed the sex, but he had learned to repress his urge to kiss her, or to sink his face in her hair, or to hug her like he wanted both to protect her and to feel the tangible and essential anchor that she represented in his life.

He wasn't unhappy about their new kind of relationship.

They were friends, they were closer than when they had been a couple and they loved each other in a platonic way. Everything was good that way.

They had found a balance, working so hard to not drift apart and to maintain the affection that had always existed between them; but now, if she knew, everything would shatter.

The panic that engulfed his chest at the mere thought of Pepper knowing was so intense he gasped for air while his chest hurt and burned at the same time.

He stumbled towards the kitchen, with his fingers aching for the sensation of a good bottle of alcohol between them. He knew he wouldn't find any, but he had to try nonetheless. As soon as he opened the kitchen's door, however, he froze in surprise: on the center of the table, there was an unmistakable bottle of his favorite scotch.

He went closer with his heart hammering like crazy inside his chest, in a mix of hope and fear. Part of him was sure the bottle would have vanished if he tried to touch it, because that would be exactly what to expect from Loki.

When he reached for it, he held his breath, then his fingers met the cold, smooth surface of the bottle.

If it had been anyone else, he would have thought that the bottle was a token of apology for the mind rape and the non-consensual groping about his Reactor, or maybe a way to harden their truce. But his captor was Loki and the most probable reason for the god to leave him a bottle of scotch was that the bottle was poisoned or cursed.

He took it anyway, touching it like it was his lover.

It didn't matter.

He would gladly face whatever consequence of accepting Loki's gift if that meant to distract him from the ghost that haunted his mind.

He lifted the bottle as if to make a toast to the god, in case Loki was watching him without showing himself. Then, he took the bottle to his lips.


	43. Chapter 41: Closing in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is my new chapter, sorry for the wait. Thank you so much for your feedbacks, I love you guys! And special thanks go to my beta Sara, thank you, darling!
> 
> I have a little request: I suck at drawing, but if someone of you would like to draw something from my story, you would have my eternal gratitude.
> 
> That said, have a happy holidays and merry Christmas to you if you celebrate it! I hope you'll like my new chapter^^

**Chapter 41: Closing in**

 

Turning back had always been the most difficult journey.

He breathed deeply while he reconciled with his physical body, feeling the wall against his back, the soft rug under him, the fresh air on his face, which was a lot gentler than the coldness of the void where he had sent his astral projection.

However, he was still hurting: in his nerves, there were countless burning shreds of pure pain, he could feel hard, sharp stones under his hands and feet, he was immersed in a pool of his own blood and the faraway echo of a mad laughter inside his mind was tempting him with a madness that would offer him protection and salvation. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids seemed like they were glued together. Darkness was surrounding him, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't run, he couldn't defend himself.

He was choking in the dark silence of the void.

“ _You are alone, little god”._

He was drowning in pain and no one was looking for him, no one would ever remember him. No one cared about him.

“ _You are alone and now you are mine”._

_No._

It was a lie. And he wasn't so weak that he would fall prey to the fears of his own mind.

_I am not really there._

He took another deep breath to give meaning to that thought, then he waited for one more moment to assure himself he hadn't lost any shards of his being in that reign of darkness and death.

He returned to his reality and opened his eyes.

The familiar room of his lair made him relax a little.

He was sitting on the floor of his study, a room which was the exact replica of the one he had in the house where he was keeping Stark. He was still in Midgard.

Thanos and his slaves were too far away to catch him, busy preparing the biggest war Loki would be fighting in. He still had time.

He stood up, refusing to show any weaknesses when his legs threatened to buckle under his weight. His mind was full of the worst memories of the time after his fall. The pain and loneliness and fear he had felt when he had met Thanos were still so intense they were able to freeze even the chest of a monster like he was, but he could ignore them.

Thanos hadn't noticed his presence.

The Titan's gaze had sharpened and he had felt it on his impalpable skin like a burning blade, painful and so threatening that it had taken all of Loki's concentration to keep his concealing spell in place. But he had succeeded in remaining hidden, one unimportant shadow among many others, so he had been able to spy on his greatest enemy and fear without revealing himself.

The Other hadn't been there. He had been sent to hunt him like Loki were a prey, but he would tear the monster and himself to shreds before he let the Other capture him alive.

The Chitauri were there, even if they were less than he had thought. Not that the decrease in their numbers would matter, now that Thanos seemed like he wanted to personally be on the battlefield, because the Titan's power was enough to wipe out whatever hope of winning a Reign could have.

Even if Thanos was defeated, Loki wasn't sure there would have been survivors or places where to start life again.

There were still days, though, maybe weeks before the Titan's army was ready to move. After that, it would have to pass through the void before it could reach Asgard or Midgard.

Loki still had some few months. He would intensify his experiments with the Casket and with the Tesseract shard in his scepter.

He sighed lightly, savoring the pleasant silence in a familiar place with no threats. After he had collected enough power to teleport, he opened his eyes, letting the reality around him dissolve and rebuild itself in the blink of an eye, and his gaze met the living room of the lair he had been sharing for days with his prisoner.

The first sound that greeted him, which was so wrong, was a hoarse laughter.

Immediately, he searched for the source of the laughter, letting his armor disappear in a golden light, before his eyes found the mortal.

Stark was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He had the bottle Loki had gifted him in his hand and on his face he showed a drunk satisfaction. He was so inebriated that he hadn't even noticed Loki's arrival and was mumbling something unintelligible while laughing.

Loki got closer and turned up his nose when he smelled the strong alcohol trace on the mortal.

“I have not given you the bottle so that you could turn yourself in such a pathetic sight”.

The mortal looked around, confused, before his feverish eyes landed on him.

“Hey, Reindeer Games, why don't you join me? If I remember well, I still owe you a drink”. Stark lifted the empty bottle, shaking it a little with a smile. “Of course, before that you'll have to magic into existence another good bottle of scotch. I have to say I like your trick, why don't you teach me? I snap my fingers, and here it's the alcohol. I snap them again, and here it's Pepper. A third snap, and I erase the memories I don't like. With magic, things are wa-a-ay too easy”.

It seemed like Stark was able to speak quite coherently even if inebriated, which was more than he could say about Thor and his idiotic companions, but the mortal's words arose the mix of rage and frustration that had been harboring inside his chest since he visited Thanos' realm.

In a swift movement, he lifted him up grabbing the hem of his garment.

“Do you really think that a mere snap of fingers would be enough to free someone from their unpleasant memories?”.

Stark lost his smile, but his grimace seemed like it was caused by the sudden movement, seeing how his hand ran to his stomach, instead of the god's words.

“Why not? You can make things appear out of thin air, so why don't you erase them? Bending the rules of physics, cheating against reality...” Stark was talking with a drowsy voice but without pausing, in the testament that even an excessive alcohol ingestion wasn't able to silence him. “It's what your magic can do and I'm not asking you anything different”.

The urge to slam the mortal against the wall until his head would be smashed into a pulp was so strong that Loki had to strengthen his grip on Stark's garment to control himself.

“Foolish mortal, do not speak about what you cannot hope to comprehend”, he hissed, with a dangerous edge in his voice.

Stark grabbed his arm before he could pulled away.

“I'm a genius, Maleficent, remember that. If there's someone who can understand how your magic works, that's me”.

The fingers on his arm were unexpectedly strong, considering that Stark was barely able to remain standing. It seemed like Stark's grip was the only thing that was anchoring him to reality, like he was so weak and confused that he needed the help of an enemy to keep breathing. If Loki hadn't met him before, he would have thought that his words were caused by his inebriated condition, but he had known him long enough to know that Stark used to brag even when sober and that among the pathetic Midgardians, he was one of the few to have some worth.

It didn't matter now, because his patience was wearing so thin that even having an Avenger as a prisoner was losing its appeal.

“Speak again, mortal, and I shall make you experience my power on your own skin in the most unpleasant way”, he threatened the mortal, but Stark seemed like he wasn't even listening to him. He was looking into his eyes with a stubbornness which was almost an obsession.

“It's what the fairy tales are about. Magic helps the hero and makes the monsters disappear. Come on, then. Use it against the monsters in my head”. For a moment, even through the alcohol that was dulling his gaze, the mortal showed something akin to desperation. “Make them go away”.

Loki felt his throat being constricted like someone invisible was strangling him.

“What do you know about monsters, Stark?”.

“You saw them”.

For a moment, he almost hit the mortal. Then he broke into a harsh laughter, indulging the hatred and self-contempt that had been inside his chest since that day in the relic room.

“Do you really want to see the monster? You are looking at it now”.

Ignoring the threat hidden inside his hiss, Stark dismissed his words in a wave of his arm, stumbling.

“Don't say that, you're not bad as an evil guy. I mean, you could totally win Mister Villain of America without even using magic and I'm sure you would be in the finals of the prom queen of evilness and madness. I'm talking about real monsters, those which-”.

This time, Loki hit him for real, interrupting his speech with a hard backhand. He remained still for an instant to savor the sensation of Stark's cheek against his knuckles, watching the cut he had just opened in his mortal's face, like the blood that was spreading down from his cheekbone was a work of art. Then he hit his prisoner again, just because it was something he could do.

Visiting Thanos' realm had left him hurt and tired, and now he yearned only for a deep, dreamless sleep. Part of him, however, was just looking for something to destroy and tear apart, because he needed to be in control again and he had a lot of rage to vent on whoever he had next to him, after those simple memories had made him waver.

He didn't have the patience to put up with his annoying prisoner.

He was just considering the option of a third backhand when Stark shook his head and then inclined his face towards him.

“Has anyone told you yet you're a son of a bitch?”.

He could break his neck. It wouldn't take much effort, just one moment, the movement of his fingers, and he would have gained the silence he was craving and at the same time a corpse to show the Avengers as a token of his victory.

Before he could act, however, Stark was the one who moved, reaching for his lips with his own.

He tensed immediately, because he couldn't believe that the mortal had dared to actually do that, but Stark was kissing him, wet and hot, with a hunger he didn't expect, and for a moment he wasn't able to react.

The mortal moaned, reminding him of the day when it had been him who had started the kiss, searching roughly for Stark's mouth in an act born out wrath and desire of possession.

He slammed his prisoner against the wall, where the mortal remained still, too weak and drunk to stand on his own.

“What do you think you are doing, Stark?”.

The mortal smiled at him with unfocused eyes that showed how inebriated he still was.

“Consolation sex? You're hot, I am me, and judging by your expression and your bad mood, we both need some distractions”.

His hands were already trying to clumsily untie the laces of his pants and, for a moment, Loki didn't have the alertness to stop him. He was too surprised to react and part of him was suddenly aware that a lot of time had passed since he had last allowed himself to have that sort of physical pleasure.

He grabbed the mortal's wrist more to catch his attention than to really stop him.

“And how would your companions react if they knew that you have offered yourself to me with such enthusiasm?”, he purred.

Stark's eyes met his with a glimpse of understanding. For a moment, Loki could see the satisfactory shadow of panic in the mortal's stare, before everything disappeared behind the same bitterness that he had showed during his days of apathy and when he was caught with his guard down.

“Like that would be the worst thing I have done”, he replied in a laughter which was more like a sob.

The sob then became a strangled sound and Loki had the readiness to step aside a moment before Stark began throwing up on the floor.

He watched the mortal falling on his knees while he continued vomiting all the alcohol he had drunk, between curses and some broken words that could have been offenses or pleas.

“I do not kill you now only because you are not lucid enough to realize it”, he told Stark when his retching subsided a little, allowing him to breathe again. “Now do regain your composure and clean your filth”.


	44. Chapter 42: The rising storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly late, but here it is the first chapter of the year. Also, no Loki and no Tony, but next chapter is already translated and will have both. That said, I wanted to thank you for your comments and kudos, they always make my day!
> 
> Edit: Chapter beta'd by Sara, thank you so much, dear!

**Chapter 42: The rising storm**

 

“Sir.”

Fury turned his gaze towards Maria Hill's emotionless face.

Silent and composed, she was the perfect example of efficiency, like she was a weapon built by Stark Industries. He couldn't have hoped in a better right man, especially now that he didn't have Coulson to rely on.

He had known her for years and, even if she put up an impassible stare, he was able to recognize her hidden emotions. Annoyance, in this case, and disappointment. He wasn't going to like what Maria was about to tell him.

“Yes?”

“The Council demands your presence in the communication room.”

They were alone, so he allowed himself to show a grimace.

After that wretched decision to send a nuclear missile against Loki and the Chitauri almost a year before, he had kept as much distance as he could from the Council. They still exchanged information and sort of worked together for the same goals, but they both knew that S.H.I.E.L.D. was now more independent, since Fury could ruin every member of the Council just letting the media know that they had decided to sacrifice New York.

If they became enemies, maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. and even the Avengers would be disbanded, but the Council would be utterly destroyed and he still had the upper hand. Or, at least, he was sure he had had it once, since Stark had been on his side, because even if the billionaire didn't trust and didn't like him, he knew that Stark trusted and liked the politicians behind the Council even less.

Now that Iron Man was missing and that there was a global threat incoming, being summoned by the Council was a bad sign.

He reached the communication room anyway, hearing the light footsteps belonging to Hill behind him.

On the screens, the politicians' faces showed a mix of worry and irritation.

“We have received your report regarding Johann Schmidt and his interrogation, Director”, the Council spokesperson told him without even greeting him.

“Then you have also received my recommendations. This matter has to be kept from the public until we hear from Asgard; in the meanwhile, you must prepare a line of defense, a global army ready to face Thanos and the Chitauri.”

“We have people doing that for us. But what about your Avengers? Why aren't you considering _them_ in such a difficult situation?”

“With all the due respect, _sir_ ”, he said, adding an ironical edge to the last word. “If you're telling me that a handful of fighters should stop a whole army, you're either a fool or an idiot.”

Hill had remained silent during the discussion, a motionless figure next to the door, but even with his back turned on her, Fury knew that the shadow of a smile had appeared on her lips as soon as he stopped talking and the Council's members reacted with indignant comments and outraged words.

He listened to them with amused contempt. During the last year, the Avengers had thwarted several terrorist acts and attempts at conquering nations or even the Earth in every part of the globe and now it seemed like the governments were taking their intervention for granted, happy that there were heroes fighting their battles and taking responsibilities in their place.

Time to let those politicians know that they still had some usefulness.

It took almost a minute for the Council's members to stop their offended blabbering.

“We don't expect the Avengers to fight alone, but they would be useful on the battlefield and their presence would increase the soldiers' morale”, a senator said, and at least she seemed like she was more reasonable than the others. “I believe that such heroes would be the best incentive to form a global army.”

“The Avengers will fight, as they have always done, but this time there isn't gonna be a portal to shut down. There's going to be war, a large scale invasion.”

The senator nodded and he hoped that at least the Council would listen to his words, so that they would be ready to defend the Earth when the time would have come.

The spokesperson of the Council, now less composed than before, glared at him.

“And what about Stark?”

“We still haven't discovered where he's being held prisoner, but given the last clues found in Red Skull's headquarter, we assume that he's still alive.”

“Suppositions aren't enough! Stark is our best asset in the incoming war. We need his weapons and if he's nowhere to be found we must at least have his suits and his blueprints, so that our engineers can build us an army of Iron Men.”

“I thought the government had already War Machine.”

“That suit is too precious for us. We aren't going to dissemble it to study how it works, since our engineers can't guarantee that they would be able to rebuild it like it was. We need Stark's prototypes and his blueprints.”

Fury held back a smile.

Of course Stark would never let the government put its hand on one of his suit without being certain that no one would be able to replicate it.

“And how would this matter have something to do with S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

The politician's face tensed in irritation.

“That woman, Potts, keeps refusing our requests to give us Stark's lab and its contents.”

“Which is perfectly in her right to do,” he replied without any emotions.

He had kept an eye on that woman since Stark had become Iron Man and he knew that it wouldn't be easy to intimidate her or force her to do something against her will. If she took one position, very few people would be able to make her falter.

Even now that her boss and ex-lover had disappeared, Virginia Potts remained the iron lady of the Stark Industries, which she led without the slightest hesitation or weakness. She was the unshakable, strong willed woman who had proven to be able to boss around a man like Stark and in some ways, she was even more dangerous than him. Apart from the financial empire she controlled, it was her information network in particular that should be feared.

Her friendly relationship with the Avengers had given her access to confidential information about the billionaire's disappearance and the latest developments, and since the last few weeks, Fury suspected that somehow she had managed to have Jarvis hacking the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s servers, even if he hadn't been able to find any proof on that matter.

“It's not her right if it endangers the worldwide security.”

“You can't say that. And I can assure you that if you decide to attack Potts, you'll make a huge mistake: the public opinion will be against you in the blink of an eye, you'll lose the economical and military support of Stark Industries, which will soon be essential in the upcoming war, and if we'll be able to find him, even Stark himself will be your enemy. Stark such as Iron Man.”

And not only him. Barton and Romanoff belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury didn't think they would betray him if they had to choose which side to be on, the government or Stark. Banner, however, would undoubtedly be on Stark's side and there was the possibility that even the Captain, following his sense of justice, decided to defend Potts.

“That's why I want you to take care of it, without forewarning and without traces. Secrecy should be your forte, isn't it, Director?”

 _Sure, and then, when the US government begins mass producing Iron Man suits, everyone will think that your engineers have abruptly become geniuses_.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. responds only to me and there's no way I'm gonna order a raid against Potts.”

The disappointed faces of the Council gave him such sweet satisfaction, even if he couldn't avoid being worried about their intentions.

“We'll talk about this again.”

Of course they would, but before that, he would make it so that Potts came to know she had better strengthen the tower's security. He didn't agree on Stark's decision to maintain the technology he had created secret. In another situation, he would have followed the Council's request, but now it was foolish to make an enemy out of the biggest and most powerful economical empire in the world. There was Stark too, to consider, because before his disappearance he was loved by the public opinion, so taking action against his will would be a disastrous choice.

Potts was smart and knew how to move in the PR area way better than Stark: where he fought in his suit, she fought with words and economical leverage, in a more lethal way. A military attack from the Council, or worse, from S.H.I.E.L.D., would resolve only in their end. Fury hoped that those politicians would not be so foolish to really antagonize her.

“Is it all?”

“No, there's one more thing.”

Fury stared at them one by one, with a feeling that he wouldn't like what they were going to tell him.

“It's about Banner. Without precise information on Thanos, we believe that the Hulk will be our best hope at stopping him.”

 _Feeling confirmed, indeed_.

“And what would it mean?”

“Banner has always been unstable. We can't risk the possibility that he decides to disappear, so he must be kept under strict surveillance.”

“Doctor Banner is a free person and has my complete trust. Try to pressure him with an unjustified detention and let's see how long it will be before the Hulk decides to take a stroll through New York, causing more damage than Loki usually does. And this time, there won't be Stark to write a check in your stead.”

“That will be your problem, Director. You are still working on the weapons that should be able to weaken or stop the Hulk, aren't you?”

Fury clenched the hands he was keeping behind his back into fists.

“You already know the answer.”

“Then I don't need to tell you anything more. Send us regular reports about the progress with those weapons and keep Banner inside the Helicarrier, or our next decision will be to dismiss you from your position and to choose a man who is much more reasonable as your replacement”.


	45. Chapter 43: The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late again with my update, I'm so sorry! It's an unbetaed chapter but I hope it won't be too terrible and it will be readable anyway. Thank you all for your comments and kudos, they always make my day!

**Chapter 43: The morning after**

 

"If I had wanted you to sleep on the floor, I would have chained you to it."

Tony woke up with a startle, opening his eyes to meet the light of an early dawn.

"Didn't want to disturb your beauty sleep, princess", he managed to grumble, feeling his tongue heavy and grimacing for the horrible taste left in his mouth.

The consequences of his drinking were more intense than he had anticipated, considering that it had only taken a second from him closing his eyes to falling asleep while he was still wondering about Loki.

"And since when do you worry about disturbing other people? You are one of the noisiest and most annoying mortals I have ever had the dubious pleasure to meet."

Despite his words, the god's voice was lacking the usual contempt. Maybe he was tired, even if he had stood up with his omnipresent elegance, or maybe he didn't want to give him enough attention to feel offended by that light provocation.

Tony stood up soon after, stretching the shoulders' muscles which hurt because of the awkward position he had slept in. Falling asleep while sitting on the floor, with his head bowed and his back against the wall, hadn't been one of his most brilliant ideas.

"Come on, Cruella, even _I_ have a heart. And okay, my heart is a Stark Industries exclusive, sort of a limited edition, but I couldn't deny you some rest, seeing how awful you looked yesterday night".

Not that now Loki looked better, now that Tony had managed to put him into focus: the god didn't have that odd, vulnerable appearance anymore, but he was still terribly pale, with almost black bags under his eyes and a tense expression that made him look like he hadn't slept in weeks, haunted by who knew what.

Tony shifted his gaze towards the bed with a grimace, while his heart accelerated. A moment later, however, he couldn't avoid looking at him again, meeting that familiar expression. _Too familiar_ , since he reminded Tony of the few first months after Afghanistan, when he found the courage to take a look at his reflection in the mirror only to meet the ghost that tormented him. It was the same exhausted face, the same anguish, the same dark, self destructive mood.

Loki hardened his expression, in the testament that he hadn't appreciated his reply or the attention Tony was scrutinizing him with.

"I strongly suggest you to guard your words, mortal". In a flash, the god was in front of him, his unusual gentle hand on the collar of his t-shirt, more like a warning than a threat. "I am beginning to wonder why I am keeping you alive".

"Because deep inside your heart you love my presence and you enjoy the thought of having the smartest man of the Earth as your audience for your future evil master plans", he replied, with his voice that gradually decreased in time with how Loki's grip strengthened, until he had trouble to breathe.

Then, he found himself incapable of diverting his gaze, because even in the god's exhausted face, his eyes stood out like two shards of green that could read inside his soul better than any spells.

With Loki's lips so close to his own and the feeling of his breath on his skin, Tony didn't find it so crazy anymore to search for the god's mouth like he had done the night before. Loki's lips spread into one of his smiles that didn't really scare him anymore.

"Or maybe because I have not found a kind of torture hard and cruel enough to teach you how to bow your head in front of me and to not speak without permission, yet. Think about it, Stark".

Tony doubted that thinking about it would make any changes. He grabbed the god's wrist, ready to face the consequence of an ironical reply, but as soon as he opened his mouth to express his skepticism about the last threat, a stab at his cheekbone reminded him of the same scene that had occurred only some hours before.

There had been the kiss, that much he remembered, but before that there had been something else. A burning pain on his face – the bastard had hit him twice – and before that there had been his own suicidal blabbering about beauty contests, and before that again, Loki's face which had contorted in a grimace, a mix of pain and rage and another emotion that had been as bright as a wound on his pale skin.

" _Do you really want to see the monster? You are looking at it now."_

For a moment he couldn't breathe.

For a moment, he remembered every single frame of that scene, of the god's mask shattering into pieces in front of him and showing a self-contempt and a self-hatred so deep they had burnt him. He shivered, trying in vain to swallow, while his eyes where still focused on Loki's face.

He was sure that the god would kill him on the spot, if only he knew a glimpse of what Tony was thinking now.

His hand was still gripping Loki's wrist, so he let go and closed his mouth without saying anything. Only Pepper had managed to silence him so completely, before, even if now it hadn't been the threats what had shut him up, but those memories.

Loki had to realize how very unusual Tony's sudden silence was, since he let go of his t-shirt with a smile that was less threatening than the last.

"It seems like you have finally found some intellect, after your little adventure with alcohol."

Tony replied with a half-hearted grimace.

"Don't count on it too often, Rock of Ages. When my headache goes away, you won't be able to win this easily."

Even if small, this victory put the god in a good mood. Instead of threatening him again, Loki stepped back. Then, he looked at Tony up and down.

"I hope you have cleaned the living room as I had ordered you to".

His arrogant voice made Tony wish he could answer no just for the sake of it. Instead he remembered how hard Loki could hit him and forced down his rebel side.

"Yep, all as new".

The memory of the god's mask shattering was tempting, but he couldn't think of it now and risking to make Loki aware of his thoughts. He knew it would only take an ill-fated comment about it, in one of the many moments he didn't filter his words, and he would end up miserably.

"But I'm out of clean clothes", he continued. "You know, you could use some of your mojo on them, a couple of abracadabra, so that they don't get dirty anymore, or you could supply me with a washing machine. My last t-shirt doesn't exactly smell like flowers."

He internally shivered thinking of how he had destroyed one of his favorite t-shirts, between vomit, blood, sweat and other things. Part of him was surprised of how easy it had been to return to care about silly things like clothes, after spending weeks not caring for the lack of them.

"A washing machine?"

Loki was staring at him completely emotionless and Tony as usual couldn't understand how much he knew about human technology and their habits. More than people imagined, given the god's ability to blend in a crowd when he didn't want to be found and his use of advanced devices, like he had done in Stuttgart. But still, washing machines were something else entirely, since they couldn't be used to conquer a planet – or, at least, Tony hoped that.

"A machine which functions through electricity and washes clothes. Cubical shape, porthole, rack... If you take me out for a walk in some civilized place, I'll show you one."

For a moment, Loki looked irritated.

"I am not Thor."

With an indignant wave of his hand, he conjured a brand new washing machine plus a small box of laundry detergent at its side.

"That's exactly why I dared ask you for something which functions with electricity", Tony replied.

It wasn't an attempt at calming the god, but the plain truth, also because he was too busy wondering why Loki had conjured the washing machine in his room to think about being diplomatic.

It was the light smile on the god's lips that gave him the answer.

"Move it to the bathroom and place it where it will not bother me. By tonight, you shall have washed all of your clothes, or I will make it disappear."

 


	46. Chapter 44: A godly enigma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand kudos and so many reviews, thank you so much guys! I wanted to wait for some more days, because the new chapter isn't betaed yet, but I really am too happy! I didn't expect so many people to like my story, so I wanted to thank you all with an early update. It's short but I hope you'll like it anyway.

**Chapter 44: A godly enigma**

 

It had taken Tony a lot of effort and a fair share of curses to move the heaviest washing machine in the world to the bathroom while Loki was watching him with delighted eyes,  _the bastard_ .

In the end, when he had managed to reach his goal, he had sweated so much that he had had to take a shower. Using the washing machine after that, it had been a new experience for him, but it had been nice to have something to do after the inactivity of the last few months. Obviously it hadn't taken a lot of time for him to begin thinking about Loki again, focusing on the enigma the god still represented after having spent whole days as his prisoner-slash-guest.

Even now, after maybe an hour, Loki was still on his mind.

He knew a great deal about the adoption thing. Loki had discovered he was adopted and his reaction had been perfectly coherent for an insane god with the attitude for melodrama: a tantrum of godly proportion, an attempted fratricide which had almost destroyed a peaceful terrestrial town and the half genocide of a whole race. Tony had come to know all the details regarding that subject when he hacked the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s servers and of course there had been Thor as the most useful source of information, since the god used every tiny pretext to talk about Loki in a favorable light.

Apart from the ode to Jane Foster's beauty – which even Jarvis had come to find boring after the first twenty times – their happy childhood on Asgard was his favorite subject and everyone among the Avengers had listened countless times to their adventures around unknown words and the dangerous situations the two gods found themselves to face.

Tony had given Thor a ten percent of his attention at most, during his tales, but even then he had noticed immediately how the god's narration was more fond than reliable.

Obviously, the god had tried to put Loki in a good light, which Tony had totally expected, but if he was sure that Loki had never been a sweet little boy with neither malice nor dark side, he didn't believe that the two gods had had the perfect, happy, bitter-free childhood as Thor described it either. Maybe their childhood had been perfect for only one of the two, but no happy children would grow up as Loki. No happy, loved children would demonstrate such a pathological need for attention, a need Tony was well familiar with, giving his ignoring father.

During Thor's long digressions, he had easily read between with words, catching unsaid things and recognizing hidden truths that maybe the god hadn't even realized yet, because he had noticed immediately who had the most inconvenient role in the scene.

The second child, the one who was always in the background and that had grown in the shadow of a brother who was too good, too loved and too perfect. A smart second child whose intellect and abilities no one recognized, endless years spent in the attempt at conquering the attention of a father who always had had eyes for his other child... it was no wonder that Loki had begun hating Thor with such fierceness.

Despite his friendship with Thor, Tony could understand Loki too well and better than he would have liked. He only had to think about his first meeting with Steve, when his blind idealism and his holier-than-you attitude had stricken a nerve, to see a parallelism between him and Steve, and Loki and Thor.

With Steve, it had been a dislike at first sight and then that legendary patriot had judged him for his past –  _Merchant of Death, yes, they had called him that before Iron Man, but Rogers had no right to rub it in his face, not now that he was trying to actually do something good_ – and he had hated him wish such an intensity that he would have never believed they would be able to work together to save the world.

It had taken Tony a while to accept Steve as a teammate and then as a friend, coming to know the man Captain America was behind the glorified legend he represented. He was sure that if he had met Steve before Afghanistan, he would hate him still and maybe part of him truly hate him anyways when he remembered what Captain America had meant for a man who had been more interested in spending his life looking for a lost legend than in being a father.

Loki, however, hadn't had the time or the will to accept Thor and his own situation, or maybe he hadn't had an encounter that could have made him open his eyes like the one Tony had had with Yinsen.

The discovery of all the adoption thing had probably been the fatal hit to an already compromised balance, transforming Loki from a jealous little brother to a crazy, homicidal god.

And there was more. The evening of the same day Loki had escaped from Asgard and Tony had fought him in Central Park – ice wall, blood, sexy smile – he had decided to celebrate his survival trying to squeeze some uncensored information about the mad god from Thor.

He had used alcohol for that and he still remembered the evening quite clearly.

 

_It had not been an easy task to make Thor drunk, but Tony had kept offering him new glasses of alcohol, drink after drink, until they began using directly the bottle, and Thor had finished in three hours what he drank in two, maybe even three weeks. On the contrary, bringing up Loki as a casual conversation topic had been a piece of cake, since as soon as he had become slightly inebriated, it had been Thor himself who had loudly remembered their adventures together. To Tony's dismay, that evening the usual joyous god was a sad drunk, since he was regretting Loki's absence and was offering an anguished mea culpa to the wall of Tony's penthouse, until Tony couldn't take it it anymore._

“ _Come on, Point Break. Okay, so maybe you're a little too much like a barbaric prince Charming with blond hair, blue eyes and perfect abs included in the package, but hasn't it ever occurred to you that Loki acts like an asshole because he hypothetically is an asshole? I mean, what in the world could you have done to him, to be so hated, apart from being daddy's favorite? You're the most caring and obsessive big brother with the oversize puppy's eyes that I've ever seen in my life”._

_Thor had shaken his head._

“ _You do not understand, Tony Stark”, he had said, with a deep, sad voice, and Tony had realized with a hint of panic that there were tears in his eyes._

“ _What do you mean?”._

“ _It was my fault. I was not able to notice how much I was hurting him. And he let go”._

_At that point, Tony was far away from sobriety too and he was beginning to realize he was way too drunk to have a conversation which seemed like it contained too many metaphors and depth._

“ _He let go”, Thor said again, while a tear slid down his cheek. “We were there, with the destroyed Bifrost and the void beneath us. I thought I had saved him, I thought everything would be like it had always been before and that this time I could be a better brother. But he let go”._

 

Tony didn't think he would remember that conversation so clearly, considering how drunk he was when it had taken place, but as soon as he had begun thinking about Loki again, Thor's words had appeared in his mind, carrying a darker meaning than when he had heard them for the first time.

The washing machine had finished the last load, so all he had to do was hanging out his wet clothes the best he could, hoping his bratty captor wouldn't throw a fit for the way his t-shirts, pants and boxers had colonized the entire bathroom.

Considering it was his first time ever using a washing machine, he was actually quite proud of himself for the good results. He looked at the clothes, which now were clean and smelled nice, before his mind went to Loki again.

He was able to wait for two whole minutes, but in the end he found himself backtracking to the bedroom.

Loki was still on his bed, but now he was sitting on it with a heavy book resting on his lap.

_The void beneath them. Beneath Loki. The same void Tony had seen when he had gone through the portal with a nuclear missile on his back and the chest constricted by the knowledge that he was going to die. And Loki had let go._

If his suppositions were right, what could he say to a god who had tried suicide to make him willing to answer his questions without dismembering him?

Probably nothing, but he entered the room anyway.

“Well then, Adam, you looked into my mind, so it's only fair for you to allow me to do the same”.

He met his eyes wearing his best shit-eating grin and closed the door behind his back.


	47. Chapter 45: Behind mad eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the new chapter, unbetaed like the previously one. I hope it's decent enough to be readable. Thank you for your kudos and comments, and sorry for my late update.

**Chapter 45: Behind mad eyes**

 

Loki looked at him with the same detached and slightly amused gaze he could have given to a little animal who was behaving strangely.

“Are you asking me to grant you access to my mind?”

Tony shook his head.

“Unfortunately, or luckily if I have to consider my mental sanity, I have no magical powers, not that I truly believe in them. So you'll simply have to answer my questions.” He crossed his arms, erasing his smile in favor of a professional expression. “Well then, Gabriel.” He mentally gave himself a high five for the new nickname, swearing that he would make Loki watch Supernatural sooner or later, only to see how he would react to the Trickster. “Tell me about yourself. What went wrong in your life?”

“Why should I give such answers to a mere mortal, who also happens to be my annoying prisoner?”

“Because I'm curios. Why did you choose to become the supervillain with horns and manic laughter? I don't think it's only because you know you look good in leather.”

The god grimaced.

“You are a friend of Thor. You should know it, already.”

Tony shrugged.

“Yeah, well, we all listened to Thor's version of your tantrum. Too many times, if I have to be utterly honest with you. But we never listened to _your_ version.”

After his words there was only an astonished silence. Loki's face was showing a surprise so intense that Tony realized it was maybe the first time that someone had asked him and not Thor how things had gone. That someone had asked Loki to _discredit_ what Thor had said.

The surprise lasted only one more moment, before it was replaced by an irritation which was close to anger.

“Be careful, Stark. I have already told you that I shall not hear his name again.”

Tony waved his hand in an unconcerned gesture, since he was way more interested in the god's reaction than in his threats.

“Okay, got it, never say his name again, but seriously, Rudolph, what the hell happened between you two?”

If it was possible, Loki's green eyes hardened even more.

“Does it surprise you that I truly desire the death of a single man? A man who pretends to be my brother only because we grew up together and I had to suffer his annoying presence since childhood.”

There was a consistent danger in his voice, like always when the subject was Thor, and Tony knew they were talking about risky things. One wrong word or one wrong stare would be enough to awaken the homicidal side of the god, but a furious psychopath was easier to manipulate for information than a collected one and Tony _had_ toknow.

“It surprises me that you make such a big deal of it. Don't get me wrong, I can understand it, at least partially. The competition against your not-brother, the fact that daddy dearest favored the blond and slightly dumb warrior over the smart little shit of a sorcerer, the attention that you yearned for but that was never granted to you despite you being more than worthy...”

“Stark”, Loki growled.

It was clearly a warning and Tony was walking on thin ice there, but he ignored it.

“Then, you discover you have been adopted, you have an understandable emotional breakdown and a less understandable attempt at murdering the person you once believed was your brother. Something goes wrong, you disappear, Goldilocks thinks you are dead and some time later you appear here on Earth, instead, with bad company and an even crazier attitude.”

Loki stood up slowly, _too_ slowly, leaving the bed with the gracious moves of a panther about to lunge at his prey.

“You should better be silent, if you care about your life.”

Despite the cold knowledge he was crossing a line, Tony remained still, ignoring the ominous feeling in his gut that suggested him to make a run for his life.

“Harboring bitterness against a family which lied to you and always favored Thor? Of course, it's legit and perfectly understandable. But truly hating your annoying and too blond brother, at the point where you tried to kill him first and then to conquer the planet where his girlfriend lives only to spite him? That seems a little extreme even for my standards, and I'm a pretty vengeful guy myself.”

_He had let go and had disappeared in the void between the Realms. The same dark, freezing and lifeless void that had annihilated Tony's mind when he had entered the portal. And then Loki had appeared again, only this time he had had the Chitauri as his allies, to make an attempt at conquering the Earth without any strategies or smartness._

No, there was a lot Tony still didn't know, a lot that Loki was keeping secret.

“A little extreme?” Another step, and the god was less than two meters away from him, an imposing dark figure with green eyes brightened by rage and madness. “You do not know what it means to be lied to by everyone, to believe you could be destined to sit on a throne, only to discover that you are no more than a tool.”

This time, Tony couldn't suppress a sharp smile.

“No, I don't. In fact, everyone has always been peachy and honest, with me. Especially my fatherly figure, who was so loving that you could say he stole my heart.” He felt his breath stuck in his throat and didn't remember the last time he had been so mad. Even after years, the mere thought of Obadiah left a bitter, bloody taste in his mouth, like part of him had yet to stop being surprised by his betrayal and was still feeling like he was about to die with a hole in his chest. Loki had seen that too, when he had been inside his mind, and still dared to speak like that to him. “Maybe the All-Daddy tried to rip the only thing that kept you alive from your own chest, when you discovered about your adoption? Or the fact that he didn't give you the throne was too much to bear for your pride?”

“I never cared about the throne!” Loki shouted, ripping Tony from his memories when he flung him against the wall with his magic.

Apart from when Thor was involved, Tony had never seen him so out of control: if before the god was only irritated or angry, now his entire body was trembling because of the rage he was trying to restrain. His face was tense, his mad eyes were staring at him with a promise of imminent death and there was a green light around his fisted hands that made Tony shiver.

Even so, he was too angry to shut up.

“So what did you want, then? A paternal hug? A pat on your shoulder?” He managed to distance himself from the wall, even if he wasn't so suicidal to attack Loki. Not with his bare hands, at least. “There are thousands of people who discover they're adopted and react without hysterics, and they surely don't attempt a genocide or the invasion of another planet.” By now, Tony didn't even know what was keeping him talking, if his will to obtain some answers or the desire to hurt the god with his words. “What a _huge_ tragedy. You have a brother who loves you so much that he still defends you even among people who hate your guts, and a father who didn't tell you you were adopted and who slightly favored Thor, but still grew you as his own son.”

He finished talking only because he was out of breathe. In that brief moment he was sure he was a dead man and that the last thing he would see would be the fist coming to smash his skull.

“And what about you, Stark?”, Loki hissed, instead of punching him do death. “What you suffered, you consider it to be terrible, you think that lacking a heart makes you _special_. But the truth is that you are nothing more than a man who was betrayed, only one man among many others.”

In some way, an aggression would have been better. Tony knew he had pushed all the god's buttons, but he should have expected that Loki would hit back equally cruelly, choosing the words to hurt him the most.

“Sure. I assume you're an expert in the 'look at your more trusted fatherly figure while he's ripping your heart from your chest and confessing that he has already tried to kill you once' field”, he said, forcing himself to adopt an ironical voice instead of a furious one.

The light around the god's fists intensified, together with the madness inside his eyes.

“I have suffered worse. You pathetic, ignorant mortal. You do not know how it is to wear a skin which is not your own, just to have it ripped from you until it reveals the monster that was hidden beneath.”

“Cut off the metaphors, Reindeer Games, they can't hide your crap. Using the adoption to justify your actions? Not buying it. Have you ever thought that you're a monster because you behave like one, and not because of who-knows-what belief you have?”

“This is the nonsense belonging to the one who is lying to himself and who knows it. There is no cure for being a monster.” Loki took another step towards him and only then Tony realized how dangerously close the god was. “You know nothing, Stark.”

“I know that we are defined by what we do and that we can change.”

He didn't truly believe his own words, not completely, because he was still the Merchant of Death even after he had stopped selling weapons and there was the blood of a little girl on his hands and he still made the same stupid mistakes, he was still too arrogant to do a good job in pretending to be a hero.

He had really believed he could be one, though, and maybe part of him still wanted to, reaching for a salvation despite all of his faults.

“And I know that the only ones who can define us are ourselves”, he finally said.

Loki's manic laughter filled the room.

“But I _am_ a monster.” He grabbed Tony's arm, yanking him towards his chest, while the madness burning inside his eyes looked like a power ready to explode. “Even if the All-Father's magic hides my resemblance, I still remain the monster who terrifies children, the monster that all the _Æsir_ hate since birth.”

With lungs that couldn't work properly with the god's stare on him and his hard breathing on his face, Tony realized that maybe he wasn't speaking through metaphors. Looking at him was like looking at himself in the mirror, like in front of him stood another Tony Stark, a man crazier and more desperate than he was now. It was a sight so familiar his chest hurt. He knew that sharp, hard irony used as a means to tell the ugly truths of his life like he was basking in them, the rage used like a shield, to never let others know how deep those truths had wounded him.

People had called him Merchant of Death, and he had accepted the title with a smile and a caustic joke until it had become something to brag about and he had begun playing the role that others had sewn onto his skin, to the point he had fooled even himself.

The grip on his arm strengthened until it left bruises, and the cruel smile on the god's face disappeared in an endless rage.

“I am the worst among the monsters who linger in the darkness, I descend from the most hated and feared offspring in the Nine Realms, and you should better be scared now, mortal.”

Only a moment, and Tony abruptly understood everything.

For all the hatred Loki was showing towards Thor and his fake father, the god hated himself even more.

“But you don't want to be a monster.”

The rage on Loki's face dissolved like a skin ripped from the flesh to reveal a bloody wound underneath.

And after that Tony couldn't speak anymore because he was hit by an unexpected, agonizing pain. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even think while Loki's magic was burning him from the inside. His nerves were on fire and he didn't notice the moment he began screaming, convulsing on a cold, hard surface – he had to have fallen on the floor because his fingers were trying in vain to dig his nails in it, looking for a way to escape that burning agony.

Loki was still next to him, a silent figure who towered over his trembling body. Maybe now the god would kill him and part of Tony hoped just that, so that he could obtain some sort of relief.

He just wanted the pain to stop.

Another wave of pure, white hot pain hit him, intensifying his torment in a way he wouldn't have thought it possible only a moment before, then his mind shut down.

 

 

When everything stopped, leaving him soaked to the bone with sweat and panting on the floor, Loki was gone.

He lay there listening to his frantic pulse, waiting for it to slow down to a normal heart beat. When his shivers subsided a little, he dared to try to put himself in a sitting position, feeling like he had just been torn apart and put together again.

When he was truly able to think again, still shocked but alive, he realized the god was nowhere to be seen.

“Asshole”, he exhaled into the silence of the empty room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I only wanted to say that I have the next two chapters ready, so let me know if you prefer having them sooner even if unbeated, or if you prefer waiting.


	48. Chapter 46: Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since most of you preferred an unbetaed chapter to the waiting, here it his. It's short and it's a sort of interlude regarding Bruce, but next one is longer and will be focused on Loki and other characters too. Also, I wanted to thank you so much for the last comments and kudos, they were many more than I expected and I'm glad my story still interests you even if it's so slow in the terms of Loki and Tony's relationship. Please, have a little patience, I can assure you that bonding time is really close :)

**Chapter 46: Prey**

 

Bruce knew the feeling of being under surveillance too well.

He had come to know it for the biggest part of his life, the strange anguish of being both a prey and a threat, because there were people following him but he couldn't recognize the danger in that or the omnipresent rage in his chest would find a crack in his defenses and the Other Guy would take control, tainting his conscience with his deadly green.

He had been fighting the Hulk since Tony's disappearance and now he was struggling to maintain some sort of control on his emotions, because the invisible eyes that he could feel on him and the unknown agents who were following him made everything more difficult.

He had no doubts that as soon as they decided they wanted him more under control, they would simply drop the pretense of allowing him an illusion of freedom and would try to put him in a literal cage.

He didn't remember the exact moment he had realized they were keeping tabs on him. Simply one day he had begun noticing some small details that alarmed every instinct of his. At first it had been a man; he hadn't lifted his eyes from the newspaper he was reading, but somehow Bruce had just  _known_ that the man wasn't in his same coffee shop by chance. Even if it was the first time he had seen him, there had been a voice inside his head, a hoarse, deep voice that was terribly similar to the Other Guy's one, which suggested he should move, pay for his tea and leave the place to merge among the crowd.

On that occasion, Bruce had been able to calm himself only when he had entered the Stark Tower, his safe place, where Pepper had allowed him to stay even after Tony's disappearance.

Since that day, he had begun looking around for unknown threats like he used to before becoming an Avenger – before meeting Tony – and he always took notice of someone dangerous. Once it had been a young woman with a stroller, another day it had been two middle aged women talking to each other on a bench in the park where he enjoyed a relaxing walk. Sometimes it was a boy listening to music with his bored eyes pointed at the sidewalk, some other time it was a couple waiting for the same bus Bruce should have caught. He hadn't caught it, thought, opting for a taxi, and when he had arrived at the subway station a girl with glasses and a briefcase, who had happened to choose his same wagon, had increased his anxiety.

He couldn't really tell what was wrong with all those strangers. He just  _knew_ that they were a threat, that they were only pretending to be normal people to fool him, so that they could control his movements and his actions.

Guessing who was behind a spy network so big and well functioning hadn't been hard at all: even if there were a lot of organizations and terrorists who wanted to have the Other Guy in their hands, there was only one agency which had remained close to him and could follow his every step so normally. The agency that had shielded him from all its competitors.

_S.H.I.E.L.D. had put him under surveillance._

He closed his hands into fists, trying to control his breathing. He couldn't let himself lose control now, but he was so tired. Since Tony had been missing in action, keeping the Other Guy at bay had been much more difficult than usual and now he knew he was approaching his limit.

He couldn't ignore the feeling of being hunted anymore. It was the cold fear crawling under his skin, the strange, itchy sensation on his nape, the urge to hide. Everything was so familiar he felt sick, because before meeting Tony he had been used to living like that, always hunted, always on the run, always with his inner double about to explode. After finding a place he could call home, being about to lose everything again hurt more than he could imagine.

He lowered his gaze on his hands. They were trembling, in the most evident proof of his instability. He was about to become dangerous again.

A brief look at the watch gave him the knowledge that he was still in time. It was nine thirty in the morning.

While he entered the Stark Tower, he felt one pair of eyes following him inside the building. A middle aged man who didn't even try to conceal his interest in him. They were getting less stealthy. He had to act fast if he didn't want to arise suspicions.

Once inside the bedroom Pepper had insisted would always belong to him, he took a little bag. He ignored his clothes and any other personal effects apart from his notebook, a change of underwear and the untraceable cellphone Tony had gifted him.

He felt a pang in his chest at the thought that he was leaving like a thief after everything Tony and Pepper had done for him. Leaving the Tower that had been his home during the last year and abandoning the people he had fought side by side with. His teammates. Steve, Thor, Clint and Natasha. Friends, even if it still surprised him to have someone he could count on, someone who cared about him, who looked at him and didn't see only the vessel of a dangerous weapon but a person.

And now, he was running away when a new enemy was almost upon them.

He hesitated before zipping his bag. They didn't deserve his betrayal, nor did they deserve to be left without a word; but he couldn't stall anymore. As soon as S.H.I.E.L.D. decided to strengthen its surveillance and try to lock him in a cage somewhere, even all his will wouldn't be enough to stop the Other Guy.

Bruce could already feel him roaring inside his mind, looking for the tiniest weakness to take control over his mind, ready to transform everything into chaos, rage and blood...

He took a deep breath, than another, counting the seconds like he was meditating until his heart slowed down and the green behind his eyes faded.

He grabbed the bag without leaving a note, because there would have been too much to say and sometimes it was better to say nothing at all. In his pocket he had the subway tickets he had bought together with the newspaper.

“Doctor Banner, should I take notice of the fact that you are about to leave?”.

He was so tense he almost jumped when he heard the familiar voice. He had to swallow before he could answer.

“I'm sorry, Jarvis. Please, don't alert anyone until I leave”.

“Of course.” Jarvis had spoken with a kind voice, but Bruce had the feeling that the AI missed its creator as much as he missed Tony. “Can I talk to you about Mister Stark's last dispositions?”

Bruce stopped half way between his bedroom and the elevator.

“What kind of dispositions?”

“Everything is in the lab, in the last drawer to the left. Mister Stark wanted to be sure that you would be able to leave New York unnoticed, in case something happened to him.”

Despite his hurry, he didn't hesitate a moment and rushed to the elevator. Tony had left something for him and again he felt the Other Guy screaming in rage and pain for their lost friend, wanting to be free and destroy whoever had hurt him.

This time, Bruce managed to regain control in a couple of seconds. Following Jarvis' instructions, he found a sealed envelope in a drawer with a false bottom. It contained a credit card, a passport and a license which were the exact replica of his own, photos included, but instead of Bruce Banner there was another name.

 _Leo Jay Burnett_ , he read with a sad smile and the taste of tears inside his mouth.

Tony had really thought about everything.

He lifted his gaze towards the ceiling while pulling the documents to his chest.

“I'm not abandoning him”, he murmured, feeling the need to apologize.

“I know.”

Again, the AI's voice had sounded sad but kind. Bruce realized that somehow he would miss him too.

“Thank you for everything, Jarvis.”

“Farewell, doctor Banner.”


	49. Chapter 47: Predator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this time the chapter is a little longer and it's not an interlude, but as always it's not betaed, so, please, forgive my errors. Thanks a lot the last comments and kudos, I didn't expect so much appreciation for a chapter which was entirely focused on Bruce and I'm so glad you liked it!

**Chapter 47: Predator**

He was seeing red.

He breathed the fresh air of the morning, finding it as hot as the knot of burning anger rising through his chest.

_It would take something much colder than the night, colder than winter, colder than ice to be able to touch a monster's skin._

For once he didn't care about invisibility, walking freely on the streets of the city he had almost destroyed the year before. He could feel the mortals looking at him, but their confused and frightened stare didn't matter to him. Soon, all they could feel would be pure terror. It was the reason for his existence, he was a bringer of pain and fear and desperation, a monster who would scare and torture those pitiful mortals.

He kept walking while the Midgardians stared at him with suspicious eyes, some of them flashing their electronic contraptions and murmuring to each others like they didn't realize who they were looking at. The bravest and the dumbest among them had even begun following him.

Fools, all of them.

As soon as he reached a park which was big enough to be a good battlefield, he abruptly turned around to face the idiotic mortals that had followed him there.

“Have you still not learned to kneel in the presence of your better, mortals?”

Before they could reply, he materialized his scepter and pointed it towards them.

“Now it is too late.”

With a small part of his powers, he conjured a fire that surrounded the whole park, its flames so high that no mortals could ever hope to cross them without burning. Now the trap was set and the foolish beings around him would be the perfect bait.

As they realized they were imprisoned in a circle of fire, the Midgardians became suddenly frantic. With shouts and screams which tasted like delicious fear, they ran around looking for a way to escape, pushing and hitting each other, in the proof that they only cared about themselves. A couple of mortals dressed in uniforms dared to defy him, threatening him with their ridiculous weapons and asking for a negotiation.

He didn't even deign them of his attention, using his power to throw them back for a dozen meters, without caring to control if they survived.

Somewhere behind him, he heard children crying.

He turned around, recognizing a small group of mothers with infants and children that weren't older than ten. He didn't remember having seen them following him there, so they had to be the previous occupants of the park.

Now they didn't even try to escape, they were simply trembling in the further part of the park, the mothers hugging tightly their children, like they hoped he wouldn't notice them if they didn't move.

When the women caught his gaze, they tensed even more, but they couldn't step back since they were already too close to the fire that surrounded the park.

“Do you Midgardians know what monsters do to young children?”, Loki murmured, while stepping forward.

_Jotuns are monsters who eat children. They are the shadows that come at night to take away the bad young ones. They are a wretched race that should be destroyed._

“ _When I grow up, I shall kill every single Jotun.”_

The nearest mortal pushed her crying child behind her back while looking at him.

Something in her reminded Loki of Frigga. Maybe the courage she was showing while facing him without running away, or maybe the desperation he could recognize in her eyes, an emotion too similar to the one he had seen in Frigga's face – his  _mother_ , because he had never stopped thinking of her as his mother, despite everything – when she had come visiting him in his cell in Asgard.

He lifted one hand and the mortal woman put her arms in front of her face like a feeble attempt at defending herself, but still didn't move, shielding her child with her own body.

“ _You are not my mother.”_

“ _Do not lie to me, Loki. You have always been my child.”_

When he pulled his hand back, behind that little group of mortals a narrowed passage had been opened through the fire.

“You have ten seconds to disappear from my sight.”

Without looking at the women and the children anymore, he shifted his attention to the other mortals again, using a force field to prevent their escape through the path he had opened.

“You, on the other hand, have wanted to follow the monster.” He smiled until he showed his teeth, closing the passage as soon as the last woman had crossed it. “Do not be surprised if the monster decides to play.”

He only had to snap his fingers to make a couple of shadows with fangs and claws appear, summoning them from Vanaheim. He snapped them again, another couple of shadows appeared, then another one, and with another snap they all attacked the Midgardians.

And then, there was only panic, only chaos, and he laughed while the mortals screamed in pain and terror and like little ants desperately looked for an impossible salvation through the fire. He laughed and laughed, basking in their fear, scenting the blood in the air like it was the most delicious nectar, because he was a monster and that was what monsters did. He was still laughing when the fire spread across the nearest trees and outside the park.

Stark knew nothing.

His lips revealed a grin when he heard the sirens that warned him of the incoming military.

He didn't care about those Midgardians at all, but together with them he knew that other, more satisfying enemies would arrive.

He only had to wait.

 

 

“Bruce.”

He wasn't really surprised he had been found. He turned to meet Natasha's gaze among the crowd that occupied the subway station. He was blandly surprised by the fact that they had found him so soon, though, when only a dozen minutes had passed since he had left Stark Tower and he didn't expect them to reveal themselves instead of following him from distance without being seeing.

He only had to look into her eyes to realize she knew everything.

“I have to go”, he said, before giving her his back.

He knew why S.H.I.E.L.D. had enforced his surveillance: with an incoming enemy which seemed so strong that even Thor feared him, the Hulk would be the obvious ace in the pocket, a monster to fight another monster. But Bruce didn't want to lose himself in that homicidal rage anymore, he didn't want to cause any more victims he would forever feel guilty for and he had no doubts that it would happen exactly so if he transformed into his alter ego. Even now, it was so difficult to control himself it almost hurt; he wouldn't be able to hold the other guy at bay for long.

He only took a couple of steps before he felt Natasha grabbing his arm, her grip way too light and gentle compared to what she was capable of.

“We need you.”

Her eyes were on him, they were big and preoccupied and caring, and even knowing that she was an amazing liar, that she was a spy and her job was to pretend, Bruce couldn't avoid asking himself if Natasha's concern and affection for him were sincere.

“No. Not until I'll be able to control myself again.”

Her hand left his arm to reach for his shoulder.

“I know it's difficult without Tony, Bruce. For you more than for any of us, but we can help. Not S.H.I.E.L.D.. The team and I.” Her expression changed slightly, like she closed off in herself to hide her emotion while still being friendly. “Do you really believe we would abandon you in the hands of someone who wants to use you as an experiment?”

“No.”

It wasn't a real lie, because even without Tony Bruce knew he had people – friends – he could count on. There was Steve, and he didn't doubt that the good old Captain would fight tooth and nails to protect him. Steve, however, wasn't used to politics and to deal with people like Fury or the government agencies. He was too honest and righteous to understand the way spies and corrupted politicians worked. Even during their first encounter, on the Helicarrier, it had been Tony the one who had convinced Steve that Fury was hiding something.

Thor was even easier to be deceived and manipulated, while Natasha and Clint, even if they were Avengers, they were also active members of S.H.I.E.L.D.. They would never let scientists experiment on him, Bruce knew it, but he feared to discover which side they would choose if Fury ordered them to put him into a cell while advancing reasonable and logical reasons.

His thoughts had to be reflected on his expression, because Natasha stepped back, showing a hint of sadness.

“I'm not asking you to trust me. But at least trust _us_.”

Bruce tried in vain to decipher her emotions behind the glimpse of hurt in her eyes. Maybe it was her strategy, to make him feel guilty, or maybe she really was hurt because of his mistrust.

For the first time, he realized that maybe Natasha knew the loneliness better than him. The abilities that made her special were also her curse, her personal Hulk: Natasha could be an unshakeable heroine, a valid teammate and for a few people even a friend, but no one, not even Clint, could ever forget who she really was. There would always be doubts on the sincerity of her words and actions.

In the end, Bruce gave her a small, sad smile, feeling something akin to grief for the both of them.

“I would like to trust you, Natasha, I really would, but now I don't even trust myself. And that is why I can't stay.”

She shook her head, ready to put her disagreement into words, but before she could reply she tensed. A moment later she took out a cellphone from an internal pocket and brought it to his ear.

“Romanoff”, she said, with her voice hard and emotionless again.

Bruce tensed too and his heart rate skyrocketed. Maybe it was Fury asking for news about him, but it didn't matter. It was his chance at running away, disappearing into the crowd.

He was about to move when Natasha touched his arm again, before putting her cellphone back into her pocket.

“I think your escaping has to wait, Doc.” She flashed a smile that this time reached her eyes, without any threats. “Loki has finally made his move and is terrorizing some civilians a few miles away from here. Are you coming?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The next two chapters will have a lot of action and I'm having some trouble with the traslation, but I've finished the first one. I'd like to know your opinion again: since they are connected, would you prefer having the first chapter soon and the second after some time, or that I finish translating them both before I publish the first, so that you won't have to wait too much for the second?


	50. Chapter 48: Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the action based chapter! I had a hard time translating it and I'm not so sure about its outcome, but well, I hope you'll like it a bit anyway. It's also longer than usual^^
> 
> Thank you so much for you support, comments and kudos, and special thanks go to my beta Sara, who corrected this chapter of mine in record time. Enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 48: Blood**

 

They had arrived, like he had expected. The Avengers, or better, five of them. At first, the two spies and the man out of time went to check on his victims, looking for survivors, while Thor and the beast attacked the shadows. They all worked in perfect synchrony, the same they had shown during their past battles, but this time their team lacked a man and it was clear how they were struggling to hide his absence.

Now, the only one who could control the situation from above was the archer and the only one who gave orders was the captain. Moreover, all the offenses that were shouted against him were dull and uninteresting.

It was totally different from the times when Stark and not the archer was the one who challenged him with his banter.

Behind the invisibility spell he had hidden himself with, Loki observed how the beast destroyed one of the shadows with one huge fist. The two spies joined the battle and wounded another one, allowing Rogers to strike the mortal hit, while the green beast was already engaging a third opponent.

Thor eliminated the fourth shadow some minutes later.

Only two of his summons remained. Time to make his entry on the battlefield, then.

Basking in the power that the shard of the Tesseract infused on his scepter, he revealed himself in the exact center of the park.

“Were you looking for me?”

A green shadow, bigger than a horse, devoured the space between them.

“Hulk smash puny god! Hulk save Tony!”, the beast screamed while attacking him, only to dissipate one of his illusions.

The beast was surely a fearful opponent and Loki had only to look at it again to feel the pain in his back, but its immense strength wasn't controlled by a rational mind, so it was easy to fool it. That was one of the first things he had learned while fighting the Avengers.

He didn't create other illusions, watching from the branch of a tree he was sitting on the five warriors facing the last two shadows. Soon he would enter the battlefield, but for now he wanted to be a silent spectator, waiting for them to notice him.

He wasn't surprised when agent Barton was the one who spotted him first. He avoided his arrow flicking one of his fingers lazily to block it before it reached his face.

“The bastard is on the tree next to the fountain!”, the archer shouted, before firing three other arrows in his direction.

Loki didn't even need to move and blocked them all with his magic.

Thor hit the shadow he was facing with Mjolnir, ending its existence. The other shadow had been already ripped to pieces by the beast so there were no diversions anymore. All the Avengers' eyes were on him, this time.

He let himself fall down from the tree, landing perfectly composed on his feet. Immediately the beast charged at him, only to be thrown back against a monument when he hit him with a wave of his power.

Then, Loki allowed himself a smile. The magic was singing in his veins, even more powerful and obedient then the last time he had used it, back on Asgard.

It was intoxicating.

“I was beginning to fear you would not come.”

Barton's answer was another arrow, which was soaked in power, this time. Loki let it explode against the invisible shield that was protecting his face, then shifted his gaze from one of his opponents to the others. The beast had already stood up and was about to charge him again when he sent it away with a second, more powerful wave of his magic.

Romanoff and Rogers were trying to catch him from the back, while Thor was the only one who hadn't moved, remaining in the center of his sight – the center of everything, like always.

“What are you doing, Loki?”, Thor asked him, Mjolnir in hand but still not risen like a threat while he was still foolishly trying to convince him with words. “It is you the one who has the Man of Iron, is it not?”

Loki took advantage of his lowered guard to send against him a magic dart a moment before meeting the attack that Romanoff and Rogers had tried to land on his back head on.

“Stark is enjoying my hospitality, I can confirm that.”

He rapidly got rid of the two mortals, hitting them with his power to send them away, then he deflected Mjolnir with his scepter, only a moment before she crashed his skull. Again, Thor tried to hit him and again he opposed his scepter, this time meeting the weapon with full force. For a moment, they remained still, both of them tensing their muscles in a challenge of pure strength that could have only one winner. It barely took some moments for his false brother to overcome his efforts and to push him away inch after inch, while his feet were digging in the grass of the park trying in vain to hold his ground.

Thor was so close he could feel his breath on his own face, but there was no savage joy in them. His blue eyes searched for Loki's own and the anger in them was mixed with a strange desperation.

“Free him. It is not too late to do the right thing.”

Loki burst into laughter, hitting him a moment later with the scepter since Thor had reduced his strength while talking to him.

“To free him, you said? That would entail to have him be my prisoner.” He summoned three more shadows to keep the beast busy, then he watched the remaining Avengers one by one, to savor the doubts and the fears on their faces. “Actually, I think Stark got bored of playing heroes with you. Now he prefers playing with me.”

“What did you do to him, you son of a bitch?!”

Loki sent Barton a grin. If Thor's and the other Avengers' expressions had darkened after hearing his words, and a roar had echoed in the park, Barton had lost control like he had expected. Loki could almost feel his thoughts, the fear and the memories of his enslavement filling his mind.

He could play with the archer some more, making him believe that Stark was now his slave like he had once been, but then the woman interfered, daring to face him directly.

“Keep your cool, Barton. If he really had Stark under mind control, he would have already sent him against us, by now.”

Loki showed her a grin of appreciation.

“Well said, Agent Romanoff”, he murmured, before appearing behind her back.

Immediately the spy turned around, one of her pathetic Midgardian weapon already pointed at his face. She was good, even when caught by surprise, she had been able to act in a moment without any hesitation. But she was a mortal nonetheless, while he was a god.

He grabbed her by her throat, lifting her from the ground.

“The Man of Iron is still in possession of his own mind, but that does not mean he does not belong to me. He is mine, now.”

The bullets that Romanoff managed to fire at him were bounced off by his invisible shield without even grazing him. A moment later, he had to block her attack with his thigh when she tried to knee him in his crotch. He strengthened his grip on her neck until she began struggling for the lack of air.

“Mine to kill and to destroy, as are you.”

For a moment, everything – the beast charging at him only to be trapped in a magic swamp, Thor shouting his name, Rogers and Barton trying in vain to interfere – lost its meaning and all that existed was the pulse beneath his fingers, Romanoff's throat which was convulsing under his hand, desperate for some air, the pained but cold eyes still fixed on his own, still refusing to let him see any fears.

The mortal was no easy creature to scare, he would need quite some time to break her spirit.

Before deciding her fate, he lifted the scepter to intercept the shield that Rogers had thrown against him. Then, he suddenly turned around, using the woman as his own shield to block the arrows that Barton had fired at his back.

The archer's horrifying scream was an amusing sound to Loki's ears, but still Romanoff hadn't given up: even half fainted like she was, she had somehow managed to shift her body, exposing her side instead of her abdomen and chest, so the two arrows hit her on her arm and shoulder.

He heard Thor attacking from his side, so he threw away Romanoff's now unconscious body and jumped back, meeting Mjolnir in mid air with his scepter. While his arms were trembling because of the violent impact, he found himself staring at the familiar eyes of the man he grew up with.

To free himself from the disadvantage of a physical challenge, he teleported behind Thor's back and only the Asgardian's reflexes prevented Loki from striking a killing blow, when Thor moved a couple of inches so that the scepter didn't pierce his torso and only grazed his armor.

“Let him go, Loki”, Thor ordered him then, with another swing of Mjolnir which Loki avoided just barely.

“And even if I did? Do you really believe he wants to return to your side?”

This time he blocked Mjolnir with his scepter, meeting Thor's hard gaze with a grin.

“What do you mean?”

Loki widened his smile, even if Thor was pushing him back with his greater strength.

“It is your precious Man of Iron that does not want to be in your presence.”

He took advantage of Thor's surprise to hit him fully in the chest with his magic, sending him flying away, but before he could follow up with another attack, he had to protect his face from the shield that the man out of time had thrown at him. He sent another wave of magic, this time against Rogers, and the leader of the Avengers managed somehow to narrowly avoid it with a roll.

Ignoring the urge to attack him again until he left him dead, he put some distance between all his opponents to control the situation.

Thor had already stood up again. He was dazed because of the hit he had suffered but apart from that he seemed still unharmed.

The beast was almost out of the dump, having won its struggle against the viscous water Loki had generated. About the two spi es, it seemed like Barton had left his hide on the tree to take care of the woman. He had already extracted his own arrows from her body and was now bandaging her shoulder, more concerned about her than about the fight.

_So predictable._

Romanoff was much more satisfying: she was alert again and even with the pain written all other her face she managed to throw one of those explosive contraptions at him. Loki stopped the explosion before it reached his face, staring at the smoke for a moment, the flames and the shrapnel frozen in time in front of his eyes. Then he threw everything against the beast, liking it suffering the attack that was destined to him.

As he was about to teleport next to Barton and Romanoff to kill them off, Rogers attacked him from his back. The Captain managed to land a punch which didn't even hurt him, before Loki turned around to hit him back, meeting the hard surface of his shield.

The shield then was used to pushed him back, while Rogers tried in vain to hit him a second time.

“You're lying, Tony would never abandon us”, he said, with the same certainty that had always belonged to Thor. The self-confidence belonging to the ones who were never wrong, who didn't even think they could be wrong, because they were sure they had all the answers, they always knew the right path to choose.

It gave Loki the urge to rip his eyes out, leaving two bleeding empty socket instead of those blue, righteous eyes.

“Are you sure, Captain?” He didn't even grant Rogers the honor of using his magic against him, he only blocked his attack with his scepter and then proceeded to hit him hard with his fists, gaining the upper hand with the same ease he had shown in Stuttgart before Stark's arrival.

“Because now the Man of Iron is very different from the man you remember.”

_If only they knew._

Their shield-brother was broken, he feared them more than he feared Loki. And Loki  _knew_ , he had come to know Stark's mind better than any of his friends could ever hope to do, he understood him more than this pathetic mortal who, like Thor, had his mouth full of big ideals and didn't even know what a fake smile could hide.

He received the enraged attack from Rogers with a laughter, blocking his charge with ease, then he elbowed him in the back and kneed him in the face, making him fall to the ground.

When he sensed another attack incoming, he used his invisible shield to block the arrows that Barton was firing at him, so that he could take care of the man out of time without distractions.

Sooner than he expected, Rogers tried to stand up, so he kicked him in the face to shove him down again and then he pressed his foot on his chest, trapping him in a completely vulnerable position.

“Actually, he is so different that I almost would like to invite you to my abode so that you could see it with your very own eyes.”

He tightened his grip in the scepter ready for a jab that would pierce his throat, but Rogers managed to intercept the pointy end with his shield.

“It doesn't matter what you've done to him, we'll be able to rescue him anyway.”

With a grimace, Loki kicked his shield away.

“No, you will not.”

Again he lifted his scepter to strike the finishing blow, but he shouldn't have taken so long against Rogers, because a moment later he found himself hurled against a tree, with Mjolnir pressed against his throat and Thor's angry and desperate eyes fixed on his own.

“Stop this madness, Loki. I can forgive you for a lot of things, but I will not be able to forgive the death of one of my friends.”

The scepter was on the ground some feet away from them and trapped between Mjolnir and the tree like he was, Loki could barely breathe. He placed a hand on the cortex, giving his false brother a grin which was more like a grimace.

“What makes you believe I desire your forgiveness?”, he exhaled, looking straight into his eyes. “You are nothing to me.”

Thor's hurt gaze gave him the opening he needed.

While the tree dissolved against his palm, allowing him to move freely again, Loki stepped back to relieve his throat from Mjolnir's pressure and then attacked.

This time he didn't hit Thor with a small knife that wouldn't really hurt him, like he had done during the Chitauri invasion. The blade that summoned and stuck in his gut managed to pierce him from side to side.

“You have always been such a simpleton,” he hissed, before withdrawing the sword and watching Mjolnir falling on the ground like the proof of Thor's defeat.

The Asgardian's eyes searched for his own, wide and surprised, while he tried in vain to stop the blood that was flowing down from the hole in his abdomen.

“Brother...”

“I have never been.”

And then Thor fell on his knees while his blood stained the ground.


	51. Chapter 49: The smiling monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am with the new chapter and the second part of the fight. A thousand thanks to my beta Sara for her help and corrections, and thank you all for your reviews, kudos and bookmarks. I hope my story won't disappoint you.

**Chapter 49: The smiling monster**

 

_He had done it._

He looked at the blood flowing down, at the open wound he had just inflicted, at the testament of his victory.

_He had defeated Thor._

Shielding himself with a spell to block the rain of arrows that Barton was firing at him, he lifted his sword to give his false brother the final blow. He had barely the time to meet his gaze one last time – there was no rage in his blue eyes, no hatred, no contempt, only pain – before a huge fist sent him crashing against a faraway tree.

Still dazed by the impact, Loki forced himself to stand up almost immediately, ignoring the flaring pain in his abdomen. Two broken ribs, at least, and some internal injuries, but he couldn't receive another attack from the beast. He called for his scepter, grabbing it with steady fingers, then he pointed it to the nearest trees and animated them to create a distraction for his green opponent, while his magic was already spreading inside his body to heal whatever damage that violent fist had done.

As soon as the pain had disappeared enough, he made four other trees come to life, before breathing in relief while his ribs settled down. During all this time, Barton hadn't stopped firing arrows at him and even if his shield rendered the archer's attacks harmless, Loki couldn't ignore him either.

Annoyed by the mortal's pitiful attempt at hurting him, he grabbed the last arrow in midair. After a slightly curious look, he poured a bit of his magic in it, then he sent it back to Barton. He didn't suppress a grin when the mortal had to jump down from a considerable height to avoid the explosion that engulfed the tree he had been perched on just a moment before.

_Another one down._

The grin became a laughter, now that he only had to claim his victory.

The attack from the beast had left him with a cut on his forehead and the blood seeping from it was covering half of his face, but it didn't matter. Blood, pain, despair... they were all his nourishment, the source of his immortality. They were the reason he existed, the only thing that gave his life a meaning in a world that wasn't fated to host him.

He animated one tree after another to keep the beast distracted, basking in the feeling of his own triumph against opponents who had just lost their strongest champion.

The Avengers could have been useful against Thanos. If not the two agents and Rogers, Thor and the beast would have represented at least some valid allies, but everything was meaningless in front of the Destroyer of the Worlds. No one would survive against Thanos, so there was no reason Loki couldn't have a little fun.

He wiped off the blood that was blinding his left eye, while staring at his opponents.

He was the cause of their pain. He had wounded them, he had taken advantage of their weaknesses and now he could really end them.

Like a monster, he was taking pride from his victories and from the blood and the pain of the ones who dared to defy him.

 

_And part of him was still in Thanos' grasp, part of him was still in the relic chamber, was still lost in the horrifying sight of a skin that shouldn't have belonged to him, was still falling forever into the void, was with his hands around Stark's neck, was standing upon him, watching his body convulsing and trembling while the spell tortured his nerves._

_He was still in his home on Midgard, watching a mortal who understood and dared too much._

“ _But you don't want to be a monster.”_

 

But he was, he  _really_ was, and what surrounded him was the most evident proof of that.

Thor was kneeling on the bloodstained ground, with one hand pressed against his wound, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. Still alive, but not for long.

The woman was standing again, her arm and shoulder showing an approximated bandage but her sane hand was already steady around one of her useless weapon, despite her pale face. Barton was again on a tree somewhere, judging by the arrows that targeted him again.

“Clint, go help Thor. Natasha, cover him. Leave Loki to me”, said a voice from his left.

The Captain was defying him and was still unharmed.

Loki let the beast fight against a couple of his illusions and teleported in front of Rogers. The mortal had been smart enough to keep his back covered by a big tree, but didn't have any chances against him. Loki kicked away his shield, before dodging his fist and then punching him right in the chest. Before Rogers could breathe again, he pierced him in the abdomen with his scepter, nailing him to the tree.

Even under his blue mask, Loki could see the mortal paling, his eyes wide because of the pain and the surprise of being defeated with such ease.

He would have laughed if the burning hatred that occluded his throat had let him.

“This time I am not playing with you mortals,” he hissed, turning the blade inside his flesh.

The Captain screamed, trying to grab at the weapon which was torturing his body to pull it out from his abdomen, but the scepter was slippery because of his own blood and he had not enough strength.

It was beautiful, his pain. It was satisfying. Loki would have savored it forever, or at least until the mortal's inevitable death, because even a superhuman soldier like Rogers would break if hurt enough, but then a sound behind his back made him turn around.

“Hulk want Tony!”

Loki had barely the time to lift his free hand and cast a defensive spell, before the beast's violent fist descended upon him, stopping only a couple of inches from his face. The barrier he had used as protection trembled while he struggled to remain concentrated.

“He does not want to return to you.”

“Hulk save Tony and Steve!”

Another huge fist crashed against the barrier, and this time it was too much: even if the spell didn't dissolve, the simple recoil hurled Loki several feet away. Before a third attack came to seriously wound him or worse, he searched for his magic – the magic that had belonged to him since birth and the one from the Tesseract's shard, which he had made his own one fragment at a time. Ignoring the pain, he sank into it, feeling it singing against his skin, feeling fire and snow and hatred. Feeling pure, overwhelming power.

“You shall not save anyone.”

His magic collided with the beast in a huge wave, sending it flying backwards while he stood up slowly. Even when the beast fell down with a furious roar, Loki didn't stop hitting it, watching his huge body convulsing and twisting around without being able to stand up, totally harmless against the full extent of his power.

To be able to subdue such a terrifying opponent was elating. He admired the way his own magic burned and broke the beast's skin, winning against its regeneration power, until the roar became a pained shout and he felt his own strength fading and his legs wobbling under him.

Only then he lowered his hands to stop the flux of energy, panting, before calling his scepter to him. On the ground, the green monster was trembling, covered in his own blood, his wounds still open and his limbs motionless.

_And now, the beast is down too._

Loki closed his eyes for a moment to recollect his strength, then he glared at the Avengers who were still awake. Romanoff was next to Rogers, busy with the attempt at healing him somehow, while Barton was still on a tree close to them.

“This should be the time you kneel and beg for forgiveness, mortals”, Loki commented.

“You damn monster!” the archer snarled, before a dart of green magic hit him in the chest, making him fall down.

“Monster, you said, Agent Barton? And yet you found it so _gratifying_ to obey me.”

He lifted the hand that wasn't on his scepter, ready to take the mortal's life.

“Now you shall stop, Loki.”

A lightning descended upon him tearing his defensive spell apart, a stab of burning pain which passed through all his nerves with an almost unbearable intensity, sending him crashing into a monument a dozen feet away.

This time, it took Loki several seconds to stand up again. He strengthened his grip on the scepter, trying to hide how breathless he was.

The continuous usage of his powers was exhausting and he had barely some energy left, but his enemies were more wounded than he was. He pointed his scepter at Thor, who was facing him with unsteady legs and a bloodstained bandage on his belly. Despite his wound, the Asgardian had still Mjolnir in his hand.

“I should have killed you immediately”, he hissed, before guiding his magic into the ground.

Soon, four walls arose around Thor to close upon him, swallowing him into a coffin of earth and mud that would crush his body. For a moment it seemed that the only son of Odin would die that day, without a sword piercing through his chest. Then a light tore through that improvised grave and Mjolnir's power exploded all around them in a blinding flash.

When Loki was able to see again and to put the surroundings into focus, he saw Thor standing among the shreds of his cage, still alive.

He didn't hesitate and in the blink of an eye he attacked him, searching for the magic that was left inside his body to create a clone, so that he could assault Thor from both sides.

For some precious minutes, on the battlefield existed only the sounds of metal against metal, the panting sound of their breathing, his scepter against Mjolnir, one hit after another in a fight that belonged to the two of them alone, like every step of their paths had brought them to that moment, to the only possible conclusion of their connection.

_The monster against the Asgardian. Let us see who will win, Odinson._

When his clone got hit by a lightning and dissolved, he managed to graze Thor with the blade of his scepter, before having to protect himself with his magic to avoid a swing of Mjolnir directed to his side. They were both wounded and exhausted, their movements weren't fast and precise anymore, but they could still fight.

“Are you tired already?”, he accused Thor after he managed to pierce his arm.

He had just withdrawn his scepter to attempt a second thrust, when another flash of lightning made him fall down hard, with his mouth full of blood and the left side of his body radiating a burning agony.

It took all of his strength to stand up again, but he would never accept defeat. A glance at his false brother's unsteady figure was enough to give him the energy for another attack.

“Loki”, Thor said, _begged,_ almost.

As always, his false brother was trying to use their fight to talk to him, like he thought that maybe, if he could look at his eyes for a long time, Loki would accept his words and agree to return to Asgard with him. This time, however, there wasn't the usual arrogance in Thor's stare, only a sadness that made him look older.

“You can still stop, Loki. Prove to me that you are not the monster everyone believes you to be.”

Loki intercepted Mjolnir in midair with his scepter, struggling to not lose ground.

“But you know who I am, Odinson. You know _what_ I am.”

Thor shook his head, searching for his eyes with a mix of desperation and stubbornness.

“You are my brother.”

“Stop lying!” He brought his scepter down hard, trying to hit Thor's head, but Mjolnir blocked his attack. He tried again, without even thinking of using his magic, because he only wanted to silence him and to kill and destroy everything. “I will return your companion to you only after he begs me to kill him.”

“ _Tell me about yourself. What went wrong in your life?”, and the horrifying blue on his arms, and blood and emptiness and solitude._

“I shall give you his lifeless body so that you will know what kind of torment I inflicted upon him.”

With a sound similar to a growl, Thor attacked him again, making him lose his ground.

“Stop it, Loki! This is not you!”

“Are you sure, Odinson? Am I not one of the monsters you swore to kill?”

He burst into laughter, because Thor never learned, not even after whole centuries spent together.

He tried to pierce him again, this time with a blade of pure green energy, but Thor managed to deflect it with Mjolnir, which was the first and most evident of the injustices he had been subjected to.

It didn't matter now that he knew the truth, now that he understood why Thor had always been first in Odin's eye, always his first choice, always the favored one.

He just kept on attacking him, with both his spells and his scepter, searching for a weakness in his defense and avoiding Thor's attacks without interrupting his laughter.

With his hand tight on his scepter, the blood filling his mouth and his magic that was defying Mjolnir, laughing seemed like the only thing that could silence his own thoughts.

He would kill them all, even Thor, if he managed to. And then he would return to his lair to rip Stark's metal heart from his chest, so that he would watch the agony of the only man who had been able to really understand him.

_But you don't want to be a monster._

Mjolnir hit him in the chest while he was still laughing, drowning the sound of his triumph in a bloody gurgle. One single moment of distraction had been enough for his power to waver, while the memory of Stark, his words and his too intuitive eyes had taken possess of his thoughts.

And now his ribs and sternum were broken, there was a fire in his lungs and he was losing because he had been busy thinking about a mere mortal instead of the fight.

He tried to regain his breath, struggling to cast a spell despite the agony in his chest –  _but the pain wasn't unbearable, it was nothing in comparison to the sight of his own arms turning blue to reveal an unacceptable truth, nothing in comparison to the horrors he had suffered through Thanos' hands and in the void._

It was when he was standing again that he perceived a movement behind his back.

_The archer._

Turning abruptly around, he managed to deviate the first arrow with his scepter. The second one pierced his golden armor and stabbed him deeply in his side.

He looked at the trees surrounding him with wide eyes, surprised with himself that he had forgotten about one of his opponents.

“Obeying my ass, you son of a bitch,” Barton said somewhere above him, a murmur which was as clear as a war cry.

The arrow stuck in his body was full of danger and power. Coughing up blood, he ripped it from his flesh and threw it away, before searching for what was left of his magic to teleport to the safety of his house; while he was casting the spell, he realized that the tip of the arrow was still in his body, but it was too late.

Before he could extract it, there was a blinding flash together with an explosion, and then the pain swallowed him whole.


	52. Chapter 50: Survivors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedbacks, I hope you'll like this new chapter too! And thanks to my beta Sara for her help, you're too kind, darling.

**Chapter 50: Survivors**

 

“Come on”, Tony muttered, while trying to win against the last fastener without losing a finger.

Maybe using the meat knife he had found in the kitchen as a tool wasn't the smartest idea regarding his safety, but the other knives weren't half as useful and its dangerous blade was the only one that could act like an improvised screwdriver.

He gave another try, focusing on his task and not on the strange environment he was in – strange indeed, because for what he could remember he had never tried to use a bathroom as his new lab.

Not that he would let something so trivial stop him. Now that he had a brand new washing machine, he had decided to use it to for the first step of his escape plan: a washing machine meant a source of technological components, which meant the possibility to build a weapon or an anti-magic device, which would mean he would have been able to actually leave the house he was trapped in.

He still didn't know  _what_ he would build but there weren't many other technological resources he could ransack in the house without Loki knowing and he would never forgive himself if he hesitated long enough for the god to decide to send the washing machine back where he had taken it.

He cursed soundly when the blade slid on the fastener and almost cut his index finger.

He had to pay attention, because he didn't know how to explain a wound when Loki would be back.

Despite everything, he didn't remember the last time he had felt so well.

For the first time in months, he felt like he was the man he had once been.

The mix of excitement and impatience that had hit him at the mere thought of having a new project in mind had been like a hot bath after hundreds of icy showers, like the first touch of a woman after countless nights spent in solitude. It had been like that first glass of alcohol Loki had given him.

With his mind focused on a new project and his fingers that itched for the need to build and create from scraps, his inability to take his destiny in his own hands had disappeared completely, leaving him with a restlessness which was half enthusiasm.

He would escape.

This time he was trapped by some spells, not by unknown terrorists, and he was in a house and not in a bloodstained cave. This time, he didn't even have tools or a friend to plan an escape with, but it didn't matter since he was Tony Stark.

When his own name echoed in his mind, it didn't sound so bad.

The first part of his plan was easy: by using the knife he would take all the components he could from the washing machine, while his mind occupied itself with the actual project, trying to find a way to build a device which could interfere with the spells that protected the windows and the door.

Then, he would give his project a concrete, functioning form, even if he had to disassemble the whole fridge and the electrical system in the house.

Finally, he would demonstrate that alien magic had no chances against human technology and no one would ever be able to keep Tony Stark as a prisoner. And after that...

And after that he didn't know what he would do, where he would seek refuge. He didn't even know if he would ever find the courage to let the other Avengers and Pepper know that he was still alive – Pepper, the one he missed the most, the one he still hurt despite her being the last person on the Earth he wanted to make suffer.

He sent the last thought away with a grimace.

It didn't matter now, he would think about everything later. For now, he had to only focus on his escape, so that his survival wouldn't depend on the whims of a lunatic god.

He tried again to unscrew the fastener and this time he couldn't suppress a triumphant “Yes!” when he felt it finally give up. A couple of seconds later, he had one new fastener to be added to the little group of components he had already retrieved. Now, he could work directly on the small motor of the washing machine.

Instead of doing so, he strengthened his grip on the knife, looking around. The silence was too deep, it made him feel uneasy. Jarvis' absence stung like a loss, a couple of times he had almost forgotten his AI wasn't there and his questions had echoed in the empty house with a sad sound.

While observing the deserted hallway, he almost expected to meet the derisory eyes of the god.

He wouldn't put it past Loki, to be there, invisible and all from the start, watching while he took the washing machine apart without the suitable tool only to mock and punish him as soon as his work was over. Given what he remembered about their last interaction, however, he didn't think the god had been rational enough to put on such an act.

Loki had been furious and his attack had been the most violent and painful Tony had ever experienced. Even so, the god hadn't killed him. He had gone away, instead, in a disappearance that seemed like a flight.

Tony almost grinned.

He had had to hit the god deep, considering his reaction. It was ironic, since for once he hadn't wanted to provoke him, then; but an unwanted truth burned more than a blowtorch and Tony knew that well enough.

He left the knife on the floor and his fingers began tapping on the Reactor before he actually realized it.

Surely, more than an hour had passed since Loki's disappearance.

The agonizing pain caused by his spell had dissipated long enough for Tony to stop cursing at the god and thinking of a way to give him a horrible death.

Not that he was in a forgiving mood: whenever the god would come back, he would have his revenge, somehow; but some of the rage towards him had dissipated, replaced by the usual curiosity mixed with frustration Tony always felt when he thought about the mystery Loki was.

He stood up to hide the washing machine's pieces inside the pockets of his clean pants, back in the wardrobe, hoping that Loki would never try to nose around his clothes.

It would be creepy as hell and while the god was creepy in his own way, he was more an I-eviscerate-you kind of guy than a pervert.

For a moment he remembered the way Loki had looked at him before attacking with his bastard spell. He hadn't seemed a sadistic psycho, then, only desperate.

Tony was about to return to the bathroom with that image still in mind, when the air around him became heavier.

With goosebumps, he turned to face the living room just in time to see a green light appearing in the center of the room. It was the usual energy that preceded Loki's return, only that this time no one arrived.

He counted to ten while remaining still, eyes on the green light.

At first, nothing happened: the air was full of electricity and the silence was so deep he could hear his own heart pounding against the Reactor. Then, from the light, Loki appeared and Tony couldn't avoid taking a step back.

The god was bleeding. His body was oozing blood, in such quantity that soon an ample portion of the floor in the living room was painted red. There was blood on the gold of his dented armor, there was blood in his black hair, his face was half covered in blood and Tony wondered how Loki could still stand, how he could still be alive.

Unfocused green eyes met his astonished stare and somehow the god had to recognize him, because he pointed his scepter against him with a trembling hand. With his other hand pressed to his side, Loki managed to step forward, before falling as dead weight onto the floor without a sound.

Tony found himself holding his breath while staring at the motionless figure of his enemy. Despite his smartness, he felt like his brain was stuck with the image of the god lying bloodied and probably half dead in front of him. The same god who could bear the Hulk's assault and then ask for a drink with a grin.

Loki – his enemy, the bastard who had tortured and mocked him – was totally harmless, now.

It was the first time Tony had the upper hand and somehow the awareness of it felt wrong, like a trap or something that shouldn't have happened no matter what.

He turned around, but instead of a second Loki his eyes were met by the light blue sky outside the bathroom window, the same view as always.

He gave a start, breathing again while he returned his attention to the fainted god. The spell that kept him trapped there still seemed active, so it probably would last who knew how long, regardless of what happened to Loki. But for now, even with his new plan, Tony needed time and time meant he needed food, and the only one who could provide him food was an enemy.

The same enemy that had kept him trapped there and that was now lying in a pool of his own blood, more similar to a corpse than a wounded person he could actually try to help.

_Oh shit._

 

 

After the explosion, Loki's disappearance took everyone by surprise, since by then, they were all convinced that the battle would be over only with either his or their death.

Yet, here they were, all bleeding, all still alive.

The silence, now that the fight was over, was as dense as blood.

Natasha forced herself to move towards Thor, who had fallen on his knees with his left hand pressed against the wound on his belly. Even if blood was oozing from him together with his life, his eyes were still staring at the exact point where Loki had vanished.

He would die in this position if no one helped him.

Before she could reach the god, a movement from a side made her change her path.

Hulk was standing again. He was more tired and weakened than she had ever seen him, but when he roared she felt her blood freeze inside her veins. It took all of her willpower not to flee like her instinct was screaming to her, because the Hulk was searching for his opponent, for someone to unleash his fury on, and there was no one in sight apart from them.

She approached him slowly, one exhausted step after the other, fighting against her survival instinct. Now that the adrenalin from the fight was wearing off, her wounds were so painful she had to suppress a moan at every movement. This time, she wouldn't have the strength to run, if the Hulk attacked her.

Holding her breath, she stopped only a couple of steps from him, searching for a glimpse of rationality beneath that endless rage that his bloodshot eyes were showing.

“We need Bruce.”

For the longest moment while she met his gaze without faltering, she had been sure that the giant punch would have crushed her, ending her existence in one swift motion and doing what no opponents of her had ever managed. Then, Hulk's green body began shrinking back to his human form and in the end, the one meeting her gaze was only Bruce.

“Na... tasha”, he wheezed, wobbling.

Immediately, she reached for him and help him stand, even if her own body was at its limit.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical team will be here in a few minutes, but if you can move we need your help.”

She spared a glance at her teammates. Thor was still on his knees, motionless, but even if he was still alive, the wound hadn't stopped bleeding, while Clint was taking care of Steve, who seemed so wounded that he couldn't even sit up.

Bruce followed her gaze without saying anything.

He could run away, even exhausted as he was.

He only had to revert back to the Hulk and resume the flight he had started some hours before, before Loki's arrival.

Instead, he stayed.

He wasn't a proper doctor, Natasha knew it, and he didn't owe anything to any of them. But he stayed, and when S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived, they were all still breathing.


	53. Chapter 51: Teammates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for this update. I found a new job and things had been hectic during the last few weeks. Anyway, next chapter will have Loki and Tony in it, while this one shows what the Avengers are doing after the fight. I hope you won't be disappointed.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and the comments, they really make me happy! And special thanks to my beta Sara, thank you dear.

**Chapter 51: Teammates**

 

Her wounded shoulder was radiating pain with every breath. The more she stood and moved and refused to take a little rest, the more it seemed like she had liquid fire inside her nerves.

The fight against Loki had brought her to her limit and now, after a couple of hours, she was exhausted like she hadn't felt in months, however she knew she couldn't allow herself to relax and use sleep to forget the pain.

She had to remain lucid so that she could think, that was why she hadn't taken the stronger painkillers the doctors had prescribed and had utterly ignored their suggestions that she rested until the day after.

Moving like a shadow in the hospital hallways, she was walking towards the cafeteria without anyone noticing she had taken the longest path from the room where Thor and Clint were waiting for her. Steve was still in the reanimation room: even if his life wasn't in danger anymore thanks to his superhuman resistance, the blade that had pierced his abdomen had passed too close to his spine and now the doctors wanted to keep monitoring him until he would wake up.

And then, there was Bruce...

Natasha's lips tightened.

Bruce had collapsed as soon as the medical team had arrived and hadn't woken up even when the doctors had carried him into a S.H.I.E.L.D. van. That had been the last time Natasha had seen him.

One of the doctors had told her that Fury wanted Banner to be kept in isolation in a reinforced room until they were sure he wouldn't transform into the Hulk when he awoke, but she knew better than that. The mere fact that no one had told her where that room was had been enough to rise her suspicions.

Even with the lack of information, one single walk through the hospital had been enough to give her a good idea of where Bruce was being kept: in the west wing of the building, she had seen two nurses with tense expressions and one of them with trembling hands. The door they had passed through had high level security and could only be opened with a magnetic card. The doctor at the reception not far away hadn't stopped for one second from surveying the door, despite her pretending to be writing something when Natasha had passed next to her desk.

Without slowing down or looking at the closed door, Natasha reached the cafeteria and bought two coffees. She immediately drank one of them before turning around and backtracking until she reached Thor's room.

There, she stopped at the closed door, hesitating.

She had spent the last few hours analyzing the fight against Loki, looking for a clue that could lead her to Tony and searching for a weakness to exploit the next time she would face the god again. Adding to that and the worries about Bruce, she shouldn't be surprised she was so tired.

For one moment, she yearned for her life before becoming an Avenger. It had been a simpler time, when she had had a bed in the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, a cold, aseptic bed that smelled clean and of no one else. A time when nothing existed besides the next mission and every aspect of her life was her following the orders she had received, with no responsibilities apart from pulling the trigger at the right time. But she couldn't turn her back on the team. If she gave up, no one would be able to keep them together.

She took a deep breath, then entered the room.

“I was starting to fear that you had escaped with my coffee,” Clint greeted her.

His smile was a tight one, but there was a questioning shadow inside his eyes.

Natasha gave him his cup and didn't smile in return, but lightly touched two of his fingers in response.

“There were more people than I expected.”

Before sitting down next to Clint, she shifted her gaze towards Thor, who was still lying on the bed, busy thinking who knew what. Maybe his thoughts were about the last fight, maybe they were centered on a much happier time of his life, but Natasha was sure that Loki was the main protagonist in them. Probably the lost brother was the actual reason of the god's deep wrinkle on his forehead, even more than the pain.

Thor hadn't lost consciousness even once since the end of the fight. Despite the blood loss and the wounds, he had remained alert and awake, his pale face tight from the pain but determined not to show any weaknesses.

Even now, with his naked torso covered in bandages, Thor didn't look defenseless, or maybe what had happened a few hours before had changed Natasha's perception of him.

They all knew that Thor and Loki called themselves god, but only during the last fight it had been clear what that meant. Their destructive power, their unbelievable resistance, their superiority... After what she had witnessed, she couldn't not realize it.

There was a huge gap between the two aliens and the humans.

Even a superhuman like Captain America couldn't compare and her own training as a spy paled in front of two beings with such abilities. Even the Hulk had been stopped...

“Thor, do you mind if I ask you a question about Loki?”

“Ask without fear. I... if I can satisfy your curiosity I shall do it”, Thor replied with an unusual hesitation, showing a caution that had to be caused by Clint's reaction at his last response.

 

_It happened after the doctors had declared that Thor's life wasn't in danger anymore and had allowed him to be moved in a room outside the intensive care. Clint and Natasha joined him soon after, relieved that his godly healing factor allowed him to still be alive and recovering when every other person would be dead._

_They spent the first few minutes talking about nothing and comparing wounds, but after a while Natasha couldn't avoid thinking back to their last fight._

_She hadn't missed the way that Loki had seemed like he was more keen on destroying everything than on enjoying the chaos he caused, like he usually did._

A monster.

_There was his weakness, a way to get under his skin, the key to destroy him and to score a point after Loki had fooled her so well during their first encounter in the Helicarrier._

_Natasha still thought about it, recognizing it as the worst of her defeats, because she had let herself be taken by the hand by the most skillful liar she had ever met, thinking she was in control while she had been nothing more than one of Loki's puppets. She had been blind, that day. Blind and naïve when she had underestimated who had spent century after century to master the ability to lie and pretend. She would never make that mistake again._

“ _Why is Loki obsessed with the monster thing?” she asked the god, looking for some information that would give her an advantage._

“ _It is not my secret to tell,” Thor answered._

_Clint stood up abruptly, hands closed into fists and face tight._

“ _That bastard almost killed us all and maybe killed Tony, and you still dare to protect him?!”_

_Among them, he was the least wounded: a lot of bruises, a twisted ankle for when he had jumped down from the tree he was on to avoid one of Loki's spells, a light burn caused by said spell; and still, Natasha was sure that if he attacked Thor, he would be dead in minutes if the god defended himself._

_She stepped in before discovering if the two of them would really fight._

“ _Move, Natasha”, Clint growled, reaching for her like he really wanted to pushed her away. It had been weeks since the last time he had called her by her full name._

“ _No.”_

_They challenged each other without any more words, before Clint lowered his gaze._

_He placed his hand on her sane shoulder, then he caressed the skin along her entire arms with two trembling fingers, a light, hesitant touch that was like an admission of guilt._

_She squeezed his wrist for one single moment, searching for his eyes, before withdrawing and returning to sit next to Thor's bed._

_The god hadn't moved at all, nor had he spoken. The bitterness that aged his face when Loki appeared to bring chaos and violence into their lives was more evident than usual and now there were also the conflicts between them that burdened his shoulder. With his head bowed and the signs of pain and torment on his features, he looked like the symbol of defeat._

_Natasha exhaled slowly. All of them were nervous and exhausted and she knew that talking about such delicate themes while they were in that condition would only break their balance as a team._

“ _We'll speak about this again, when the others are here too.”_

_Clint hesitated for a couple of seconds, his fists tensed and his lips curved into a grimace; then, he nodded._

“ _Bruce?”_

_She gave him a thoughtful look, before standing up, her face unreadable._

“ _I'm going to get a coffee, do you want some?”_

 

Thor was still waiting for her question and Natasha had to ignore the impulse of trying to extort him his brother's secret.

“Is what we saw Loki's true power?” she asked instead.

Loki had defeated them. He had almost killed three of them, he had rendered the Hulk helpless. And there was Thanos too, approaching the Earth like an unknown threat. Only a name, but it had been enough to frighten both Thor and Schmidt.

The god thought deeply for a couple of seconds.

“I do not think so. It is true that Loki never truly tried to conquer Midgard or to kill you, before the last battle, but what he did to Bruce Banner...” He shook his head “Such intense power never belonged to the brother I knew.”

The bitterness of his last words made him lower his eyes.

“So he's already using the Tesseract power he had stolen from Schmidt.”

Clint made a half-heartedly attempt at throat-clearing.

“Do you have any ideas of why he was so pissed off?”, he asked Thor, talking to him for the first time after his almost aggression.

The god shook his head again.

“I had not seen him so out of control since... since my banishment.”

Clint's fingers tensed in an unconscious gesture that Natasha had immediately learned to associate with him feeling nervous or insecure.

“After seeing Loki so freaked out, are you still sure that he didn't kill Tony?”

“Not without a corpse for us all to see. No, he came against us to vent his anger against someone who could actually fight back, probably because he didn't want to torment who had irritated him to such extent.”

Clint's tension abruptly decreased. 

“Tony”, he said, with the shadow of a smile. “If he's not only alive but is still able to be a jerk even with Loki, it's really a good sign.”

Natasha nodded.

“Now we only have to return fit for combat again and to start searching for him again. That is, if Tony doesn't manage to escape first. It wouldn't be strange, considering who he is.”

Clint stopped smiling, but the serious expression that took its place didn't transmit anguish or defeat anymore.

“We are a team. What we do, we have to do it together,” he said, and his voice sounded like the renewal of an oath. Not that Natasha had had any doubts on his loyalty.

“Indeed.”

Clint searched for her eyes, while Thor looked at them with a confused face.

“Do you know where...?”, the archer asked her, without daring to pronounce the name that had surely been on his head since Natasha had returned with the coffee.

She didn't answer, not even with a whisper, because it was too dangerous now that they were in a S.H.I.E.L.D. hospital with who knew how many people who were controlling them and the room they were in. But this time it was her turn to show him a half smile.


	54. Chapter 52: The dying enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and support, and special thanks to my beta Sara for her kind help.

**Chapter 52: The dying enemy**

 

He didn't know how many minutes had passed, but his hands were still shaking.

Everything had happened too quickly for him to be able to plan his actions.

Loki was lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood and he had seemed so wounded that, for a moment, Tony had thought that someone had gutted the god before sending him back to his house. His spells were still active, considering the illusion Tony could see outside the windows and nothing had suggested that Loki's death would end the magic that was protecting and hiding the house. More than anything else, the mere sight of the god being so hurt and damaged was so totally wrong to him: he couldn't believe that the enemy who had been capable of brushing off an attack from the Hulk like it had been nothing to worry about was now dying, without giving him the chance for payback and for some answers.

So, he had acted on instinct. His first action had been trying to turn the god on his back, which had been a difficult task. The armor had disappeared when Loki had fallen to the floor, but his alien body was heavy nonetheless and it had taken Tony a few attempts to accomplish his task.

Once he had been able to directly look at the god's wound, however, he had felt like a giant fist made out of ice had punched him in the stomach. Part of Loki's side didn't exist anymore. There was a hole where flesh and skin should have been and the blood was oozing from the deep wound in such quantity that soon there wouldn't be any inside his veins anymore.

“Damn, Loki, if that's a prank I'll make you pay for that,” Tony had accused him, but his own voice had faltered.

If his tormentor died, he would die with him, he knew that.

With his body tense and the first glimpse of panic crawling inside his lungs, he had run to the bathroom to grab a couple of towels. It wasn't like a battle, it wasn't like anything he knew and, for a moment, he had felt like he was about to experience Yinsen's death again.

As soon as he had returned to Loki, he had crouched over his body, pressing the first towel against that horrifying wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding, while the blood began staining his fingers.

With neither medical kit nor medical knowledge, the only thing he could do had been to keep pressing that damn towel on Loki's destroyed side, changing it when it became too soaked in blood, and hoping that the god could regain consciousness and heal himself on his own.

He had almost laughed while thinking about it.

Now that he had discovered he wanted to live, his life depended on the enemy who was bleeding under his hands.

He had pressed the towel against Loki's body with more strength, not caring if it hurt him.

When the bleeding had stopped, he had been sure that it was only because there hadn't been any left inside the god.

He had touched Loki's throat with two fingers, searching for his pulse – he hadn't touched his chest, not anymore after the first time, because there was something broken and soft, there, and he had been too scared to examine it.

The icy sensation in his gut had intensified, he had been so sure that there was no pulse, because the god's body was cold, it was too cold to be still alive. There had been a pulse, though. He had felt it with his two fingers. Even if Loki had lost so much blood, even with a body so damaged, he was still alive.

Tony had taken a trembling breath, without daring to pull his fingers back, while his other hand was still applying pressure on the bloodstained towel. He had stayed in that position for hours, worrying for an enemy whose imminent death was upsetting him for more than one reason.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling like his fingers were still smeared in blood even after he had washed them half a dozen times.

Now Loki was sleeping.

Actually, sleeping didn't seem the right word for someone who had had a chunk of his side missing and had lost a pool of blood. It definitively didn't seem the right word after Tony had seen his internal organs or had felt his broken ribs moving under his fingers, while he was trying to stop the bleeding and to understand how he could fix something which was made of flesh and blood, something alive, that would never be granted with second chances and whose spare parts didn't exist.

After what had seemed a whole day, however, Loki's breathing had become more regular and deeper, and the god himself hadn't looked like he was about to die any minute.

When Tony had pulled the towel away, he had noticed with half surprise and half relief that the gaping hole in Loki's side had begun to close. He had carefully touched his chest, where he had felt that the sternum was slowly healing, and only then he had dared to pull away, so that he could go to the bathroom, drink something and especially wash his hands.

He had returned to him with a knife in hand, the same knife he had used on the washing machine.

After some moments of silence, when he had remained still with his eyes focused on Loki's pale face, he had cut the god's clothes off to take them away from the wound.

Then, he had sat down again, waiting.

Some minutes later, Loki was still terribly cold and pale, and even now that the hole on his side wasn't bleeding anymore and that Tony couldn't see his internal organs anymore, he couldn't believe that he was still alive.

“ _But I_ am _a monster.”_

Tony had believed it to be a metaphor, at that moment. Before Loki reacted so violently, before realizing the desperation that the world carried; but now, he couldn't do anything but agree with Loki's comment, because only a monster – or a god – could still be breathing after having received such wounds.

Like a flashback, he replayed inside his mind the morning when he had fought Loki in Central Park, the god's threatening eyes that were bringing him the challenge of a wounded beast, and they were red, red as blood, and not because Tony was drunk like he had tried to convince himself.

And then, everything fell into place and it was so obvious that he felt like an idiot, because the solution was there, had always been there since his first fights against Loki, so close and with so many hints. Loki's mystery was so easy to solve that he couldn't understand how he could have been so blind.

He brushed against the god's wrist, shivering when he felt the cold skin under his fingers.

“ _I am the worst among the monsters who linger in the darkness, I descend from the most hated and feared offspring in the Nine Realms.”_

That was what he had missed, the obvious point that he had overlooked.

Loki's trauma was not the adoption, there was more. More and worse. Loki belonged to another race, a race that seemed like it was the mortal enemy of the people he had grown up with.

Tony felt the sudden need to have something strong to drink.

While watching the too pale and still tense face of the unconscious god, he didn't feel rage or hatred anymore, not even remembering the painful spell Loki had attacked him with.

He only hoped he was wrong, because his intuition was bringing him to consider a truth that he didn't like at all.

If he hadn't misunderstood something, it seemed like Odin had brought home with him one of his enemy's children as a spoil of war and had then raised him to hate his own race.

So Loki had grown up in the shadow of his big brother, feeling like the neglected son, and then had discovered his true parentage.  _Not a son, not even a neglected one, but a spoil of war. A monster._

Tony felt sick.

He knew a great deal about shitty fathers.

Howard had ignored him in favor of a missing legend and his work –  _What is, and always will be, my greatest creation is you_ , he had told Tony as his last message. Not a son, not a child to love, but a creation, like a new AI or a new device that would have given Howard fame. 

But at least Howard had never made him hate his own birth.

If that was the reason Loki had become a crazy, vengeance driven god, he could almost sympathize with the guy.

He flinched, startled by his own thoughts, then he pulled his fingers away from the god's wrist.

It was so wrong: Loki as a comforting presence during the night, the way Tony couldn't find his company so unpleasant anymore, that strange anxiety that wasn't completely related to his own survival when he was sure the god was dying...

Maybe it was a spell, a magic Stockholm Syndrome or something like that. He so wanted to believe it...

But no, he remembered the way he had been immune to Loki's scepter and the god had had to violate his mind to have some answers, when he would have simply mind-controlled him if it had been in his powers to do so. Moreover, his own emotions and personality seemed too  _his_ to be fake.

Caught by a sudden agitation, he retrieved one of the Twilight books and, pen in hand, he began sketching the first design of an anti-magic field device on one random page.

He had been staying with Loki for far too long. His moral compass was clearly broken and the mere fact that he was justifying the bastard was a worrying signal of something very wrong. Seeing Loki as someone other than an enemy was insane and he didn't need to add confusion to his already disoriented conscience.

He pressed the pen so hard that it pierced the page.

He had to escape soon.


	55. Chapter 53: Having the upper hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long wait, here it is the new chapter. It's unbetaed, since my beta is busy, but I hope it's readable enough. Thank you so much for your comments, I love them all! Also, next chapter is almost ready, if you don't mind having an unbetaed chapter I'll update definitely sooner next time.

**Chapter 53: Having the upper hand**

 

He was so tired that his eyes were burning when the god finally regained his senses.

At first, Tony didn't notice that Loki had awoken, since he was too busy thinking of the anti-magic device, but then he felt a sudden danger. Lifting his attention from the last sketch, he met two green eyes in a pale face, which made him breathe in relief.

“I was fearing that I had to sacrifice myself and attempt to kiss you awake, Snow White.”

Loki closed his eyes for a moment.

“Stark,” he exhaled with a weak voice, despite his threatening expression.

“Exactly, that's me, the puny mortal you owe your life, etc, etc. I allow you to postpone your heart-felt thanks to when you aren't about to die anymore.”

Loki didn't even acknowledge his words. Instead, he tried to move, reaching for the scepter that was only a foot away from him. His hand convulsed, his fingers closed into a fist before opening again, and only when Tony saw a green light he understood what the god was trying to do.

“Calm down, Bambi. Given your condition, I seriously doubt you would be able to use your green mojo to eviscerate me. You should better concentrate on the easy task of keeping breathing and staying awake.”

The scathing glance he received as an answer made abundantly clear that, if Loki hadn't replied with murderous threats, it was only because he was too weak to talk.

Tony saw him tightening his lips in a hard line while he tried again to reach for the scepter.

If Loki had renounced to have the last word, maybe his hope that the god's life wasn't in danger anymore had been too optimistic.

He went closer to the scepter, daring to touch it with the tip of his index finger. Nothing bad happened and his hand didn't explode, so he grabbed it and then he turned to face the god.

“It's this what you want?”

Loki's face hardened in concentration, like he was trying to draw the scepter to him with his mere will. His silence was upsetting to Tony, especially with the pain so evident and intense on his face. The god's skin was almost gray, his eyes circled black and barely conscious, his side was still showing a hole as big as his fist.

Without waiting for an answer that would not arrive, Tony lifted the scepter from the floor. 

Immediately, he could see Loki tensing. Maybe the god thought he would use it against him, or would mock him, like offering him a means to save himself only to take it back a moment before Loki could touch it. If Tony had to be honest with himself, he was half tempted of doing exactly so and exact vengeance for when the god had left him agonizing on the floor, but even he wasn't such an ass.

With his gaze focused on the god, he slowly put the scepter down, next to his less wounded side, then he withdrew, sitting on the floor a couple of steps away from him. Maybe he should have given him some privacy, since he was sure that Loki loathed to show his weakness even more than Tony himself, but he still feared the god could die any minute. Besides, he was too curios to see what he would do.

As soon as Loki decided Tony was at safety distance, he placed his fingers on the hilt and closed his eyes.

At first nothing seemed to happened, but then Tony noticed that the scepter was glowing faintly.

The god breathed deeply like he was trying to recollect his residual strength, and the green light passed from the scepter to his hand, disappearing inside his body. One tense second after another, the dreadful wound on his side began slowly healing, the hole filling with flesh and skin.

Tony followed everything holding his breath.

It seemed like Loki was actually able to heal himself, like he had hoped, but given his pained expression and the chocked sounds that escaped his closed lips, it had to be a process which hurt a lot.

Now that the god was keeping his eyes closed, Tony took the chance to study him without receiving back a homicidal gaze. Loki was still too pale, his face was tense because of the pain and he seemed on the brink of fainting any second, but his fingers were so tight on the scepter that Tony doubted he could take it away from him. Despite how hurt he was, the god was still healing himself without pause.

It seemed to last forever.

When in the end the light dissolved, the hole in Loki's side was covered by a frail layer of new skin and it didn't seem like he was missing a chunk of his side anymore.

Loki let the scepter go and opened his eyes again, panting.

“Are you dying a little less, Nosferatu?” he asked the god before he could stop himself.

Loki's eyes met his own with a harder than usual stare, now that there was pain in them, together with madness and rage.

“Get out of my sight, Stark,” he growled, trying to sit up.

He managed to lift his torso for only a couple of inches before falling down to the floor with a hiss of pain.

“Not until I'm sure that your internal organs will remain safely inside your body.”

The green in the god's stare looked like a storm.

“Instead of worrying about me, you should wonder how many of your teammates I spared and how many of them I had killed.”

Tony stopped the movement that would have blocked Loki's second attempt at sitting up halfway through the motion.

“What?!”

He had been so concerned about Loki's survival that he hadn't even spent a thought on who his opponents could have been. Someone strong enough to break his sternum. And someone with weapons that could tear off a chuck of the god's side.

His stomach clenched abruptly and there was ice in his chest.

_ Mjolnir, or a fist bigger than his head. And a bomb, or maybe one of the explosive arrows he had built for Clint. _

And if the god had been half dead after the fight, if he had shown worse wounds than the ones the Hulk had inflicted upon him when he had used Loki to destroy a floor of his tower, Tony couldn't really hope that his teammates had exited the fight unharmed.

Loki met his horrified expression with a bloodstained grin.

“The woman? The archer? Or maybe the soldier out of time? Who would you miss the least?”

“Shut. Up.”

The god's grin widened.

“Why should I? It is so pleasant watching your anguish. You lose control at the mere thought of your teammates being killed, but you are terrified of being in their presence. You fear the idea that they discover your bloodstained secret so much that you have not even tried to escape or to attack me. You prefer staying here, as my prisoner, to returning to them. And yet, you torment yourself even if there is no one to return to anymore.”

Tony was upon him in the blink of an eye.

“You are lying,” he growled, not caring that he was reopening the wound he had struggled so much to close.

He was only seeing blood, but it wasn't Loki's blood anymore. It was Natasha's blood, her eyes void of any life and her body bent in an unnatural angle. It was Clint's blood, his corpse a red smear on the ground after he had fallen from too high. It was Steve's blood, the epitaph of a legend who had bitten the dust.

All killed by the same enemy Tony had tried to help.

_ The enemy he had tried to understand. _

He grabbed Loki's neck with both of his hands, like he wanted to choke him together with the thought of having other unforgivable faults to be held responsible for.

The pained hiss that escaped the god's lips didn't even reach him, there was only blood, his friends' blood.

Somewhere there echoed a laughter, not that it would matter.

Panting, Tony tightened his grip.


	56. Chapter 54: The monster inside his skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I promised, here it is the update, a little faster than the last ones. The chapter is longer than usual and it's not betaed, so please, let me know what you thought about it. I really really hope it's readable.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and the kudos, you are wonderful, guys!

**Chapter 54: The monster inside his skin**

 

“You are lying.”

He had to, Tony couldn't stand the idea of one of his friends dead because of him.

He kept strengthening his grip, he wanted to kill the god, to make him and his words disappear.

Loki burst into laughter, while blood began dripping from a corner of his mouth down to his chin.

“Maybe. Or maybe I am telling the truth.”

When his eyes met Tony's, they were showing that red shade again and there was madness in them. Loki didn't even seem to care about Tony's attempt at strangling him. Instead, he lifted one hand with some difficulty and pressed it lightly against Tony's belly, a touch so cold that made him shiver even through his clothes.

“And do not forget your place, mortal,” the god added, in a hiss full of pain and anger.

Tony had barely the time to realize that the bastard was preparing an attack even in his critical condition, when a dart of green magic hit his abdomen like a violent fist, knocking all the air out of him and sending him flying against the wall.

Pain flared in a hot, white wave behind his closed eyelids. For a moment, he wasn't able to breathe and there was panic surging in a foul taste in his throat.

Somehow, he forced himself to react and not to throw up. He opened his eyes again, wheezing, his lungs burning for the need of air and his abdomen that hurt so much he felt like the god had broken something important inside him.

His hand went to touch the exact part of his torso that Loki had hit with his magic, in a frantic search for broken bones or worse, while the pain subsided a little. If his organs were wounded he could die, and if the spell had broken his Reactor...

But no, he was still whole, _his Reactor was still whole._

He stood up with trembling legs, ready to face a second attack, in case Loki had the strength for a killing blow, and even more ready to attack him first. The fingers of the hand that wasn't still pressed against the Reactor were burning for the urge to hurt the god, to grab his neck and keep tightening their grip until he killed him, until Tony didn't feel the unbearable guilt of having his friends killed anymore.

He took a step forward, thinking of the meat knife in the floor not so far away, of the blade sharp enough to cut flesh and nerves, maybe even the throat of a dying god. Then, he stopped, unsure, because Loki didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence.

It wasn't because of the exhaustion, since the god's eyes were still open and alert, and Tony could see the red in them standing out among the usual green. Neither was it because of the pain, since the expression in his tense face was one of pure, utter horror.

Not caring about the wound on his side which had begun bleeding again, the god had frozen while staring at his own fingers.

It only took Tony an instant to notice the pale color of his skin retreating to the knuckle and then to the palm, being slowly replaced by an unnatural shade of blue.

It didn't seem dangerous, nor did it seem painful, but Loki's upset eyes reflected an unnamed horror.

_Maybe that was the way he had looked at the hole in his chest for the first time._

Like he was under a spell, he kept staring at the strange shade of blue crawling up Loki's hand until it reached the wrist, while the god, judging by his tense face, was trying stop the mutation. Loki was bleeding again, his side drenched in blood, but he didn't even seem to notice it. His horrified eyes were still focused on the blue on his skin, like it was his own hand the part of his body that was bleeding and killing him.

Tony crouched over him, his rage replaced by the surprise of seeing Loki so vulnerable.

Now the pain on his abdomen was almost irrelevant and his fingers didn't aim at the god's pale neck anymore.

He was too curios for that.

He stretched a hand towards the god.

It was cold around his body.

So cold that Tony realized abruptly that he had to tighten his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering.

_The cold is a wrong notion, it doesn't exist, only the heat or its absence exists, but the body next to him had lowered the temperature in the whole room in such a short time that it shouldn't have been possible in physics, and who knew which rule the motion of electrons obeyed, beneath that blue skin..._

He almost managed to brush his fingers against the blue that had reached the god's wrist, and he shivered from the coldness that had seeped inside his skin like the first touch of winter, when Loki pulled his hand back abruptly.

“No!” he hissed through gritted teeth, like that one single word had cost him more air than what his lungs were able to provide.

Tony startled and withdrew, keeping his eyes focused on the god's ones. The red shade in Loki's stare was more evident than before, it seemed like a drop of blood had stained the green of his irises.

He tried not to shiver again, since the air around the god was freezing, but he didn't want to walk away and miss what was happening. Holding his breath, Tony saw the green magic surrounding the whole arm, reaching the wrist, and the blue began to subside.

It was a slow, painful process, considering the way Loki's face became paler and paler, but in the end his hand returned to a normal color.

The last trace of blue had just disappeared when the god lowered his arm with a pant, the bloodstained green of his eyes hidden behind his closed eyelids.

For a moment, Tony feared that Loki had died.

He reached for his wrist with the intention to find out if there was a pulse, before stopping his fingers an inch from his skin, fearing that, if Loki had been alive, any touches could provoke a violent reaction. Then, he noticed the slow rising and falling of his chest, and felt a wave of relief. A moment later, the wound on the god's side caught his attention. It wasn't as bad as when Loki had first appeared in the living room, but with the last struggle it had opened again.

He immediately went to stop the blood with the towel he had used in the same way only some hours before, remaining silent at his side while the room returned to a more normal temperature.

When finally Loki found the strength to open his eyes and look at him, he greeted Tony with a grimace.

“You are pathetic.”

“Said the pot to the kettle. Haven't you realized you're lying on the floor, incapable of moving?”

A flash of anger passed through the god's eyes, but they were green, now.

“Just wait, mortal. Give me a little time, and when I will be standing you will still remain a coward who lies to himself.”

Tony breathed deeply, trying to remember that letting Loki die would mean his own death too.

“You should better shut up and spare your strength, considering how much you resemble a divine corpse, right now.”

He could still feel the god's neck under his fingers, the power to kill him, to exact revenge and to erase a threatening existence. The fear that his teammates had truly died was still a suffocating knot in his throat that made him suffer at every breath he took. However, Loki's hostile and provocative behavior was starting to make him feel a bit reassured.

The god hadn't come back with the exultation of the winner. If he felt the need to provoke Tony, it meant that he hadn't vent enough anger on the Avengers, so there was a possibility that all of them were still alive.

Or at least, Tony needed to believe that his former friends were well, or he would go crazy.

Loki's lips opened in a mocking grin that resembled a wound.

“It amuses me seeing how much you torment yourself, fearing the judgment of mortals who have committed worse acts than the one you feel guilty about.”

A cold sensation hit Tony in the stomach, as freezing as the blue skin he had almost touched, even if he tried to ignore it.

“And you surely know their lives in every smallest detail”, he commented, withdrawing the towel from the wound which had closed again.

He didn't mind talking about the other Avengers and their stories, he needed a distraction, something that would not make him think about the fight.

“You forget the information that Barton has so _loyally_ given to me. Moreover, such lost creatures are never innocent.” For a single moment, Tony felt only relief for Loki following his change of subject, before the god began speaking again, his face lighted up due to the satisfaction of a particularly accurate hit. “Are you afraid of remaining alone? Of remaining left behind by everyone you know and care for? Are you afraid they would reject you before you distanced yourself?”

Tony tensed, his hands balled into fists.

“And what about you, then? All these dramatics to keep me unaware of the fact that you resemble the offspring that a Smurf and a fridge could have?”

The god's expression hardened, in what showed that even without understanding the references, Loki had caught the offense hidden in Tony's words.

“What are you babbling, Stark?”

Tony met his eyes without any hesitations.

“You're not only adopted, you belong to a different race, don't you?”

The silence that followed made the question seem even louder.

Loki had to be truly in bad shape if he couldn't control his expression anymore, or maybe Tony had brought up a subject which, for the god, was even more painful than Thor, giving the wounded look that crossed his face. A moment later, the anguish on his face was replaced by contemptuous anger.

“I knew that Thor would not waste any time before telling you mortals about the differences between our origins”.

“Thor has nothing to do with this.”

If looks could kill, Tony would be dead in the blink of an eye.

He stretched himself, realizing that the long hours spent playing nurse for the god had left him with a sore back, like when he remained in his lab for too long.

“Don't make that face, Rudolph, you know I'm a genius.” He made himself comfortable with his back against the wall. “The blonde Big Jim that you refuse to consider your brother didn't say a thing, only that you were adopted. I'm simply smart enough to catch what was strange on that subject and put all the hints together.”

He paused to better savor the astonished awe that the god would show him for his guess, but Loki looked only surprised and not at all in awe. If Tony had to be sincere with himself, the only emotion that the god was showing was a dangerous irritation.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, without losing his smile.

He had a difficult audience, but the chance to explain how smartly he guessed Loki's secret from so few clues was too alluring.

“Stop me if I say something wrong. Thor's one-eyed father adopted you and raised you like you were his son. Thor himself didn't know that you two are not blood related. Then, you discovered all the adoption thing and, surprise! Not only you didn't have the same genetic makeup of your parents and brother, but you belong to another race too. A race which, judging by your own words, is not very popular on Asgard. And here come all your tantrums, your attempts at killing your brother and your late adolescent rebellion with invasion included in the package. So, did I have it right?”

He didn't need an answer to have his guesses confirmed, it was enough to look at him, recognizing on his face those familiar emotions that were more vivid and painful than a bleeding wound. At the same time, Tony was sure that, if the god had had even the tiniest fragment of his powers left, he would have already been torn apart by one of his spells.

He shifted his gaze, suddenly feeling like the triumph for having found the truth was stuck in his throat. In the cold silence that had descended upon them, he wondered how long it would take before Loki healed enough to punish him. Maybe a day, maybe a few hours.

He should have felt some satisfaction, after all he had been able to find the secret Loki had desperately wanted to keep hidden inside himself, and he had managed to do it even without magic. He could avenge the violation of his mind, the jabs and the threats the god had thrown at him. However, the mere thought of using what he had come to know against him and exact a righteous revenge tasted like ashes in his mouth.

When his gaze returned to Loki, the god was looking into nothingness and his lips were closed in a thin line, forming a bitter grimace.

“What do you think about trying to move you?” Tony asked. The floor was covered in blood and it certainly wasn't the best surface for a wounded man to lie on. “I haven't moved you while you were unconscious because I didn't want to worsen your wound and because, let's face it, even if you have the perfect body for a beauty contest, you weigh a lot, but if you don't start bleeding out again I think that the two of us should be able to put you to bed.”

Loki shot him a poisonous glare and he didn't know if the god had appreciated less his own weakened status or the fact that Tony had dared to point it out.

“If you're trying to send me a telepathic answer, I can already tell you it's not working. What I'm feeling are only some homicidal vibes, which I suggest you to give up, considering your wounds.”

Again, the god didn't talk, his lips tense in a contemptuous line, but after a deep breath he managed to slowly sit up and Tony took it for a yes. Careful to avoid Loki's wounded side, he put an arm around his back and grabbed the same wrist he had seen turning blue less than an hour before.

Between the difficulty of supporting a man that, despite his slender figure, weighted more than him and the caution they both had to exercise so that the wound didn't reopen, he took several minutes to find a balance, with Loki trembling from his efforts and his blood staining Tony's t-shirt.

Moving was awkward because of the difference in heights and the god was only half conscious, even if he tried to support himself the best he could. Tony found himself cursing in his head and struggling to cover the small path to the bedroom. If only his pride had allowed him, he would have given up and thrown the god on the nearer couch.

When they finally reached the bed, they were both panting.

As soon as Loki managed to climb on the mattress, he lied there with his eyes closed and the body tense. Only after a minute he opened his eyes again, glaring at him.

“Do not think that this will change anything between us.”

“Don't overestimate you, Rudolph. I'm doing this for me. I have no intentions of being trapped here with your dead body until I starve to death.”

“Keep talking, Stark, and soon there will be a dead body inside this room, but it shall not be mine.”

“Tony.”

He flashed a grin in response to the confused stare the god gave him.

“You saw me naked and I practically had a hand inside your abdomen. Not that seeing me in all my manly magnificence is a honor for a few lucky chosen ones, but I think you can now call me by my first name.”

He had the satisfaction of looking at a dumbfounded Loki before he retreated to the living room so that the god wouldn't have the chance to reply. He had made Loki speechless.

His mood was so good that, after cleaning the floor, he went to the bathroom to have a shower singing the first lines of _Back in Black._

_One-zero for the mortal, Reindeer Games._


	57. Chapter 55: Power play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time I'm updating almost fast XD The chapter is of course unbeta'd, so I hope as always that it's readable. No Tony and no Loki today, sorry, but they'll be in the next chapter. Since I'm having a little vacation starting from Friday, I don't know if I'll be able to update again for this week, but I'll try to update as soon I'll be back.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, you're really amazing!

**Chapter 55: Power play**

 

Six hours and twenty-two minutes since the Avengers' retrieval.

Four hours since the communication that Captain America would survive.

Less than three hours since the last report regarding Romanoff, Barton and Thor, who were still resting in the same hospital room.

He brought the microphone to his mouth while he looked at the screen that had caught his attention for the last few hours. Soon he would know if his gamble would turn out well for him.

“Doctor Roberts, how is the situation with the sedatives?”

“Not as well as we have hoped, but an awakening still remains an unlikely possibility. Two minutes from now we are going to inject another dose of the experimental serum and see the results.”

“I don't have to remind you how cautious you must be. We have gone too far, now we can't afford any mistakes.”

He had just turned off the microphone with the doctor who was in charge of the project, when Maria Hill appeared in the control room.

“I thought I have been clear when I ordered you to control Romanoff's movements.”, he said to her, without lifting his gaze from the monitor.

“In fact you have, but we've just received an important call and I thought you would want to know it.”

He tensed, because he knew Hill would never disturb him for unimportant reasons, especially when he had given the order to filter every call and giving priority to the containment of the Hulk.

“How important?”

On the monitor, he could see Banner lying on a hospital bed with his eyes closed. He was still unconscious, but his body had begun shivering, in the worrying sign that the Hulk inside him was fighting to come out.

During the last few hours, Fury had controlled him with an almost obsessive attention through the surveillance camera. Inside Banner's body, there were already three different kinds of experimental sedative designed appositely for keeping the Hulk asleep, but it seemed like they wouldn't be enough in the long run.

When he shifted his attention towards Maria, he immediately caught the thin line of her lips which showed how tense she was.

“Important enough to suspend your observation of Bruce Banner. It's Virginia Potts.”

Fury stifled a curse.

Giving the impossibility of keeping people unaware of Loki's attack, he knew he would have to face the Stark Industries' CEO sooner or later. He had only hoped she would contact him the next day or as soon as she discovered about the battle. He surely didn't expect her to call when he was more vulnerable, in the middle of an experiment on the most dangerous Avenger and while he was risking an internal dissidence.

“She asked us to call her back in an half hour,” Hill added.

Fury didn't even need to explain his intentions. Instead, he pointed his finger to the monitor where he could see Roberts adding a fourth IV in Banner's arm.

“I'm going to my office. Take care of it until I come back.”

“Yes sir.”

Once in his office, he waited for fifteen minutes at his desk, reflecting on what he could tell Potts, what he would have to hide and the best lies to cover the fact that he was following the Council's orders regarding Banner. Then, he grabbed the phone and dialed the number of the most powerful CEO in the world.

She answered the phone after only a couple of seconds.

“Miss Potts, I heard you were looking for me.”

“Director Fury. I suppose you have less time to waste than I have, so I'll go straight to the point: I want an exhaustive report of the fight that took place this morning, between the Avengers and Loki.”

The last time they had spoken to each other had been a couple of weeks before, when she had expressed her total disagreement on suspending the research for Tony, and now it wasn't difficult for Fury to catch the coldness in her still courteous voice.

“You know that the information you want is classified.”

“And this telephone line is the second most secure one of the continent, behind the line that belongs to the Pentagon, and only because Tony didn't put much effort in it when he designed it.”

“Maybe you don't understand. You are a civilian.”

“Of course I am. And I am the CEO of Stark Industries, which are the financier of most of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s and the Avengers' operations.”

Pott's voice had become gentler, now, and Fury felt the urge to interrupt the call.

“This doesn't put you above the law”, he replied, hiding how much she worried him.

Stark was Iron Man, was unpredictable, immature, destructive. But Virginia Potts was steel. She could have been more respectful of the law and more predictable than him, but nothing would dissuade her from using all her huge resources to reach her goals.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. is above the law. And I want to know the latest news about Tony, I want to know how his teammates are and I want doctor Banner to be hospitalized in a hospital under my supervision. If you don't want to grant my requests and won't give me the information I'm looking for, I'll go somewhere else.”

Fury sighed silently. He had taken advantage of Banner's bad shape to follow the Council's orders, knowing that he couldn't refuse every request of them. With the Avengers so divided and their loyalty not as certain as before, he would have preferred leaving the Stark Industries outside the inner conflicts he already had to face. The balance between the S.H.I.E.L.D. and the politicians represented by the Council was already too frail to be put under risk by an external faction, but if the CEO wanted a fight, he would have no qualms about destroying her.

“Let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Potts. You're under too many radars, already, and I guess that lieutenant Rhodes has reported to you the discontent of the senior military hierarchy regarding your refusal of giving the suits to the government. Don't add S.H.I.E.L.D. to the list of your enemies.”

There were three seconds of silence and Fury really hoped that Potts would listen to him.

“Director, maybe it's you the one who doesn't understand the situation. I don't have a list of my enemies, I don't know how to use the suit and I don't have any intentions of starting a fight or even a war. However, anyone who dares to obstruct Tony's will or keeps information regarding him hidden, will find himself labeled as an enemy of the Stark Industries, with all the consequences that this fact involves. Have a good day, Nick.”

 

 

 

“It seems like our attempt at finding an agreement with the Director failed, Miss Potts.”

“It seems so, Jarvis. Not that I anticipated a different result, given the fact that it's Fury we are talking about.”

Pepper put the phone on her desk and let her gaze wander over the view that could be seen through the glass wall of her office in Stark Tower.

Tony was out there somewhere and she didn't know if he was alive, whole, still sound of mind. When he had returned from Afghanistan, he had lost a part of himself. He had changed, had become more responsible, more altruistic, for the media he had become a hero. However, the people didn't know that his change had had a price, they didn't know he had a hole in his chest, where she had been forced to put a hand in, they didn't know about the sleepless nights spent with Jarvis and a bottle as his only companions, nights that ended when she found a passed out Tony on the couch or in his lab the morning after; they didn't know about the nightmares that made him wake up almost every night wheezing and shivering, with his pajama drenched in cold sweat.

They didn't know how much time it had taken to have Tony find a sort of inner balance, to see him truly smiling again, to erase the worst shadows from his eyes.

She had always been at his side, at first as a special secretary, then as a girlfriend, now as a friend. She didn't know if she could bear a broken Tony again, watching while the most important man of her life tried to go on living using alcohol to cope, drowning in the bottle what his mind couldn't accept. She didn't know  _how_ broken he would be at his return – and he would return, she felt it, Tony was still alive somewhere.

But she wasn't alone anymore, now. There were the other Avengers, especially Bruce.

And even if no one of them would be there for Tony, she would be, ready to pick up the pieces of the man she had loved more than any other in her life, even if it would break her too.

She brushed one hand over her eyes, but there were no more tears when she put New York into focus again. There would be time to weep when Tony returned, not now that she had a battle to win.

“Jarvis, are you ready to take control of the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s hospital?”

“I'm waiting for your command.”

“Then it's settled.” She hesitated only one moment, not because she was afraid, but because she wanted to better remember the single instant that would start the war. “Activate protocol Skynet.”

“As you wish. You know, Miss Potts? I think that Sir would be proud to know which name you have chosen for this initiative.”

Pepper couldn't hold back a smile.

“What can I say? Spending so much time in his company has awoken my latent immaturity.”


	58. Chapter 56: A good day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back! Of course, this is an unbeta'd chapter, again, but my beta is returned too, so next chapter should be way better than this. Anyway, I hope that this one is readable enough.
> 
> I'll never thank you enough for your comments and kudos, you're great!

**Chapter 56: A good day**

 

Tony didn't remember the last time he had woken up in such a good mood.

After the god had arrived, bleeding like he had been gutted, he hadn't had one moment of rest. The fear and the tension had worn him out, he had been so close to embrace madness while Loki was dying under his hands reminding him of a cave, of sand and blood, of a good man who had sacrificed himself so that Tony could live, and the mere thought of failing again had made it harder to breathe...

Now that the crisis had been averted, however, he was feeling a strange, warm satisfaction. The god was still breathing and he had been unexpectedly useful as a doctor – not like when there had been Yinsen bleeding out in front of him, not when it had mattered, but still, he had been able to save someone. It was only an unimportant detail that the one he had saved was the divine villain who had locked him in that house.

Keeping Loki alive had also meant keeping himself alive too, and since he had averted an horrible death by starvation, he could worry again about escaping.

The first thing he did after a quick visit to the sleeping god was taking a shower. Even after he finished washing himself, he remained under the warm water for a long time, simply enjoying the peace of a morning when no one would die.

He ended the shower only because his stomach grumbled and reminded him how much time he had spent playing doctor and worrying about an enemy without eating anything.

Ignoring the sudden urge to ask the god to materialize a couple of cheeseburgers, he reached the kitchen. During the last few days, he had grown tired of the taste of sandwiches, but there wasn't much more he could eat and they were food nonetheless, so he finished two of them. He was about to clean the kitchen when he thought of his evil patient, back in the bedroom

He didn't know what Loki used to eat when he wasn't half dead, but he was sure he had to eat something, since he hadn't refused the omelet Tony had generously offered him. Trying to remember what kind of food a wounded person should eat wasn't an option, both for the lack of variety in the fridge's content and for Tony's own ignorance in that matter, so he made another sandwich and brought it to the bedroom, together with a glass of water.

This time, Loki was awake and welcomed his arrival with a gaze full of suspicion.

“Sorry, Rock of Ages, but I didn't find any souls in the fridge. If you can be satisfied with some humble mortal food, I made you a sandwich,” Tony greeted him.

Without deigning him with an answer, the god tried to lift his body into a sitting position and immediately glared at Tony when he made an attempt to help him.

It took Loki two whole minutes, but in the end he was sitting almost straight, with his back against a pillow, his face so pale it had a gray shade to it and his lips tightened in a hard line. He was panting because of the effort and the pain, but he had managed to move without any help and Tony didn't know if he was more relieved that the stubborn son of a bitch in front of him hadn't started bleeding again because of his stupid pride, or more prone to gift him with an ironical clap.

Before he could decide if the clapping would have dire consequences in the immediate future, Loki grabbed the plate from his stretched hand and stared at the food on it with a frown. Only after he had studied the sandwich for a few long minutes, he seemed to deem it edible and took a bite.

Tony bit his own tongue to repress a sarcastic comment. Instead, he sat down on the chair he had brought next to the bed and simply looked at him.

Despite him feeling a little offended by the way his food had been received, he didn't want to point out that the god now had to depend on his good heart to survive.

Rubbing it in Loki's face, while the bastard was already so hurt and helpless, felt like a cowardly thing to do. It was nothing like showing the world how dumb people like Hammer were, maybe because he had some respect for the god – when said god wasn't a complete asshole who liked to strangle him, violate his mind and threaten his friends.

He made a grimace without saying a word, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions he was feeling.

Apart from the nights when nightmares and bad memories visited him, he had never feared the silence, maybe because he was used to talking to Jarvis and to himself all the time. Now, however, Loki's hostile silence had created an uncomfortable atmosphere.

He barely resisted the urge to clear his throat and was surprised by the fact that he didn't have anything to say when he had never had a problem in filling the silence with his own voice.

While he ate, Loki was watching him with a guarded, colder than usual expression, which felt strange to Tony, given the fact that he spent the last few hours trying to save his life, avoiding a heart attack and ruining forever one of his favorite t-shirts in the process.

Even his attempt to strangle the god had lasted two seconds top and he hadn't tried it again, so he didn't deserve that diffident, suspicious gaze.

_What hideous crime did he commit, to have offended His Highness, the most capricious evil god in the entire galaxy?_

He watched Loki's fingers tearing off a piece of sandwich before bringing it to his mouth – the god was graceful and dignified even while he was so wounded he could barely move and was still sticky because of the bleeding – and he suddenly thought of the unnatural blue that had covered his whole hand.

_Oh, right, the tiny detail that now Tony knew his secret and then had metaphorically slapped it in his face. Not that Loki had done something different when he had violated his mind, so an eye for an eye, Maleficent._

The wounded beast behavior that Loki was showing towards him, however, gave Tony an unpleasant feeling somewhere around his chest.

He remembered the fear of having the god use what he had seen inside his mind against him. Loki had all the weapons to break him with mere words, all it would take was reminding him of his faults, and yet, the only things the god had brought up to hurt him, when he was lashing out because of his wounds and his vulnerable situation, had been the Avengers and the hard truth that Tony didn't have the courage to face them. A truth that stung still now, but it could have been much worse.

Loki hadn't said anything of Obadiah, of Afghanistan, of the cave and his damaged heart. He hadn't even mentioned the children.

The god's nimble fingers tore off a chunk of the sandwich for the last time and, two bites later, the plate was empty.

For Tony, bearing Loki's cold expression for another minute was too much.

“I have an offer, Harry Potter. You won't try to psycoanalyze me and won't talk about my teammates again, and I won't bring up your true form.” He flashed him the same fake smile he used to offer the press, but he wasn't lying. “So? What do you think?”

Loki's face hardened even more, but after a brief moment of threatening silence, he relaxed a little.

“It is acceptable.”

“Good. How about us cooperating to patch you up?”

“What do you mean?”, asked the god, with the suspect back in his voice.

Tony sighed.

“It is in both our interests that you return to your former, evil, healed self as soon as possible. I'm no medic, but if you tell me how I can help you healing yourself I'm ready to listen.”

The silence that followed was so deep and long that he lost his hope on receiving an answer.

“I need my scepter,” the god finally said.

Tony was immediately on his feet.

“Okay.”

In a dozen seconds he returned with the scepter and, as soon as he noticed how tense Loki was while he was following his every movement, he settled it next to his body, before putting some distance between them.

Everything happened like a few hours before, even if it was faster this time: the god touched the scepter, closed his eyes and the green mojo crawled all over his hand and arm until it reached his torso. The blanket covered most part of his wounded side, but the attempt to heal via magic had to be working, since some minutes later the god's breathing became less labored and he seemed less pale than before.

“So, good as new?”, he asked, when Loki opened his eyes again and the green light disappeared.

“I am well enough to be able to kill you with minimal effort.”

The god's voice was still tight and breathless, and pain was still showing on his face, but there was a sort of calm on his gaze, now, like the worst had passed. Little by little, his body relaxed, together with his expression. It was less hostile, less detached and, somehow, it made Tony feel better.

“I'm going to say it's a big improvement, considering the fact that the last time you tried to kill me you almost killed yourself as well.”

The god replied with a disappointed sound that he seemed too tired to put into words and Tony flashed him his smile, before shifting his gaze towards the scepter.

It had always interested him, since the day it failed to take control of his mind. Sadly, Thor had taken it to Asgard after the battle against Loki and the Chitauri, so Tony hadn't had the occasion to study it like he had wanted to, but now the scepter was so close he deeply regretted the lack of his lab.

“How does your magic wand work?” he asked abruptly, too curios to remain silent. “Does it amplify your magic? Or does it create new magic from nothing?”

Loki studied him without talking for a few long seconds.

“It is a reserve of magic,” he finally answered. “Of _my_ magic.”

“Does it mean you're the only one who could use it?”

“The power that it contains could be used by others who possess the gift of magic, but only with limited efficiency.”

By others with the gift of magic, or maybe by a genius capable of translating magic into coding. His desire of studying the scepter was making his fingers tingle and he stretched towards it without even a conscious thought.

“So that's why you spent so much time working your green magic on the little shard of the Tessaract, right?”

_ He so wanted his lab right now. _

Loki set his hand on the scepter, daring him to come closer.

“I do not know what you think has happened, _Stark_ ,” he said, emphasizing his last name. “But making me talk about my powers will not make you any less an enemy of mine.”

_Maybe next time, when there wouldn't be an hysterical, over-possessive god near the scepter._

His gaze left the alien weapon and he withdrew.

“Worry not, Bambi, I shall never tell anyone of this shameful moment of intimacy between us.” He met his threatening eyes with the most innocent of his expressions, before standing up to stretch his back. “Another sandwich?”

Loki looked murderous, but after a brief struggle with himself he deigned Tony with a nod. He even let the scepter go when Tony seemed far enough.

“Stark,” the god called him, when he was about to exit the room.

He turned around only to meet an annoyed gaze.

“I do not know who this Bambi is, nor do I recognize the other names you use when you talk to me, but I do not take offenses lightly.”

Tony gave him his trademark shit eating grin.

“Noted, Morticia.”

He went to the kitchen feeling Loki's homicidal glare on his back even after the god wasn't able to see him anymore.

An hour later, Loki was sleeping after having eaten almost everything that had been in the fridge and the pantry, Tony had thought of several plans to escape from his prison and felt more in control of his own life than he had been since the day Schmidt had captured him.

Back in the bedroom, he mused for a second which reaction the god would have if he took possession of half of the bed, then he decided that the situation would be too strange even after they had signed a sort of truce, so he took a pillow and a blanket and went lying on the couch.

He was so tired and relaxed that he fell asleep in a couple of seconds.


	59. Chapter 57: The first move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, and things become a little more animated.
> 
> Thank you as always for the commens and the kudos, love you, guys! Also, special thanks go to Kirsten, who corrected this chapter, and to Sara, for all her help during these last few years.

**Chapter 57: The first move**

 

He finished the conversation with Potts less than half an hour before he returned to the control room. There, he found Hill staring at the same monitor he had been watching for most of the day.

“Maria,” he called her, coming closer, his eyes already focusing on the screen.

Through the surveillance camera he could see Banner, still asleep, but there were two more IVs in his arm that hadn't been there the last time he had seen him. He couldn't suppress a grimace. He didn't know what the lethal dose of the sedative was and, even worse, he didn't even know what would happen if Banner's body reached its limit. For every other person, an overdose of such powerful sedatives would mean sure death, but for the human who was also an unstoppable monster like the Hulk...

He remembered too well the recording of the moment when Banner confessed he had tried to kill himself, putting a gun into his mouth and pulling the trigger, only to awaken the Hulk.

“Director?”

He shifted his gaze from the screen to Hill.

“Control the media and every communication from Stark Industries, both via public and private channels. I don't want to hear a word about S.H.I.E.L.D. before I know what that word is.”

Maria nodded.

“Yes sir. I take it didn't go well with Potts?”

He allowed himself to show a grimace.

“Not at all.”

“Do you think she's going to attack?”

“Her best weapons are the media. If she wants to hurt us, she'll call a press conference. We must be ready to do some damage control.”

Again his eye returned to the screen. He thought he had seen a movement, Banner's fingers slightly flexing, or maybe it had been only his mind playing tricks on him, since he was so nervous.

Maria stepped away, looking at the door like she was expecting a direct attack and felt the need to secure the entrance.

“I never took Potts for an impulsive woman.”

She was tense, even though her voice hadn't carried any emotions.

“Neither did I. But it was impossible to find an agreement with her, given her requests.”

_And given the Council._

He watched the monitor again. The tension due to Banner's containment and the threat of a Hulk's awakening wasn't the only thing that bothered him, nor was the precarious situation with the other Avengers.

During their last conversation, Potts had seemed too sure and too hostile.

Virginia Potts wasn't a soldier, she would never start a war on a different battlefield than what the media provided and would never attack S.H.I.E.L.D. in a direct, military way, since she wasn't as

hotheaded or as unforeseeable as Stark. However, if she decided to truly start a war against him after her threats, then she would only destroy herself: her immunity would disappear and there wouldn't be anyone who could deny the Council's requests. Stark Industries would be dissected, Stark's suits would be taken by the government, Potts wouldn't be able to use the press as a shield anymore and would lose her position as CEO of one of the biggest economical empires in the world.

Maybe it would be better that way.

He searched for Hill's eyes, without giving voice to his last thought.

“Strengthen your surveillance on Romanoff and Barton. I don't want to risk any information leaks.”

“Yes sir.”

He watched Maria approaching the exit, but before she could open the door, everything went suddenly dark.

In a moment, he crouched so that the console would shield his back and his only eye tried to see something in the complete darkness that surrounded him. He had already a gun in his hand and his mind was focused his body ready to react deadly against any upcoming threats.

In the silence, he heard a faint rustle on his left, a sound so imperceptible that he only noticed it because he was holding his breath.

Even in the darkness, Maria was already by his side, next to him and as ready as he was, protecting his blind side.

He waited for a whole minute counting the seconds while he tried to hear something, the tiniest signal that could alert him of the enemies' arrival, but there was only silence.

“The door,” he whispered, before standing up and running in the darkness to the console next to the wall, where he knew there was the button for the emergency generator.

Using his fingers to recognize it, he gave Hill ten seconds to position herself next to the door, where she would be able to surprise the enemies, then he pushed the button.

Nothing happened.

Complete darkness still surrounded them and the only sounds in the room were their slow, controlled breathing. There weren't any screams, any explosions, there wasn't anything that hinted at a military attack happening at the moment.

“I fear Potts decided to declare war,” Maria said, giving voice to his own thoughts.

His free hand activated his transceiver.

“Then our priority is reaching Banner and the other Avengers.”

 

 

 

Natasha sat with her eyes half closed, waiting. Her body hurt and she was beyond exhaustion, but she knew she couldn't simply rest.

For her trained, active mind, waiting without any clear instructions or knowledge of the situation was the worst kind of torture.

Thor was asleep, so wounded and tired that even his divine body had reached its limit and despite his evident will to remain awake he had surrendered to his weakness almost an hour before. His loud snoring had allowed Natasha to communicate with Clint through soft words and hidden gestures and stares that no one on the other side of the surveillance camera would be able to perceive, but the plan they had come up with required more strength than the two of them would be able to provide at the moment.

Defying S.H.I.E.L.D., escaping from the hospital and saving Bruce with Thor so wounded he would be able to barely stand and nothing more, while she was wounded herself, was too risky in the situation they were now in.

Because of that she had decided to wait for Thor to heal enough to be able to help and for Steve to leave intensive care. Part of her also wanted to believe that, given him enough time, Fury would give them a rational explanation to what was happening, a reason for him to gain her trust back.

She looked at Clint, who was sitting not far for her, fighting against his own exhaustion as she was.

Maybe because he was the one least wounded on the team, it seemed like he had taken upon his shoulders the duty to protect them all and beyond the tiredness that had seeped through his expression he was tense, ready to attack at the tiniest provocation.

He still felt guilty, Natasha could read it in his eyes every time Clint glanced at her, ready to catch her tiniest hesitation in her movements, or the glimpse of pain on her face that she was too tired to hide.

“I'm not the one who needs medical attention, here,” she commented with a light irony, while nodding towards Thor.

Clint replied with a grimace, but didn't say anything in response and shifted his gaze towards the door.

“You should sleep,” he murmured.

She was just about to give him a negative reply, when she felt something vibrating in her inside pocket. Mildly surprised, she took out the phone and brought it to her ear.

“Romanoff.”

“Natasha, I want you to listen very carefully to what I'm about to say. I've turned off all the surveillance cameras, so no one is able to watch you right now,” a familiar voice told her.

“What are your intentions?”

Next to her, Clint had already stood up, ready to act, his fingers itching for the need of his bow.

“Bruce is in a containment room in the same hospital you're in.”

“In the east wing, I know.”

She stood up too, giving Clint a reassuring glance.

“They're keeping him sedated, but it won't work for long. I need to know if you and Clint are on my side or if you're on Fury's.”

“We are on our side.”

“And what about Bruce?”

Natasha looked at Clint, still tense, then at Thor, who was snoring like nothing had happened, and she smiled.

“Ours is the side of all the Avengers.”

“Good, then I'm waiting for you on the roof. Can Thor move?”

“If he has to. But Rogers has been in intensive care since we've arrived.”

“Leave Steve to me. I only need you to take Bruce and reach the roof. The Quinjet will be there in fifteen minutes.”

The communication ended without any more words, but now Natasha was sure that someone more friendly than S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives would follow their every move until they managed to escape from the hospital.

As soon as she put the phone back in her inside pocket, Clint looked at her questioning.

“What's happening?”

“Wake Thor up. Pepper decided to make her move.”


	60. Chapter 58: The Iron Lady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm being repetitive, but thank you so much for your reviews, they've made my day (several times, now) and I always appreciate them. Thank you for the kudos and the bookmarks too, I hope you're enjoying my story. Also, I want to especially thank fabricdragon, who corrected this chapter, thank you dear.

**Chapter 58: The Iron Lady**

 

He was suffocating.

There was a dark veil, as thick as a shroud, all around his body.

He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even think, and through the fear he wondered if that was how his life would end.

His last memory was a flaring pain in his abdomen, where Loki had pierced him with his scepter, then he had only a few confused images: the blood staining his own hands and costume, flowing down in a pool at his feet, the screams, his teammates all around him, friends he hadn't been able to protect...

And the darkness. An everlasting darkness, where his consciousness had drowned.

Maybe he was dying and that was only a moment of lucidity, the last one before the end.

But no, he wasn't dead yet. There was air in his lungs, if he concentrated enough he could hear and feel himself breathing, and there was pain, something hot and burning that spread through his nerves all around his body – did he still have one?

Everything seemed so faraway, though. Every perception was so detached from him that it didn't seem like it truly belonged to him and his consciousness was about to get lost again, engulfed by that dark nothingness.

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were glued together, he was blind, condemned to always wander in that limbo without waking up.

He thought he heard a couple of thuds somewhere, then someone else's breathing and a continuously beep which accompanied the sound of his own heart.

The smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils a moment later, it was unpleasant, it meant sickness, hospital, wounds, blood.

He had bled a lot during the last fight, maybe too much. His teammates had bled too.

He hadn't been able to protect them, just like he hadn't been able to protect Bucky, like he hadn't been able to protect Tony.

_And what good was it to be Captain America if he couldn't protect anyone?_

He opened his eyes with a pant, filling his lungs after what seemed like an eternity.

For a moment, the too bright lights above him made his eyes water and he only saw confusing shapes through the tears. His head was pounding like someone hit it with the butt of a rifle and there was sand inside his mouth, given how dry it felt.

Then, the pain in his abdomen pierced right through his dizziness, like a red-hot blade tearing through his skin and muscles, like he was still in front of Loki, with the scepter stuck into his body, watching his own death mirrored by the god's mad eyes.

He tried to roll to the side, in the instinctive and foolish attempt at driving the pain away, but the stab at his stomach made him whimper.

He was in so much pain, so dizzy due to his own weakness and to the light that was making his eyes wet, that he realized only after a while that someone was talking to him.

“...hear me? I need your attention.”

He blinked a couple of times and managed to put a white figure into focus with black hair, a messed up surgical cap, a face which was half hidden by a surgical mask and a single white glove on only one hand. A moment later, the figure became recognizable as a man with a big build that wore the unmistakeable uniform of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical team.

He breathed in deeply, feeling a stronger pang of pain where Loki had wounded him, then he breathed out, trying to retake contact with reality after it felt like he had been sleeping for years again.

Something was off, a detail that his instinct had caught almost immediately, but his mind couldn't put into focus. The feeling of being in danger made him look around and, when he saw the two bodies on the floor next to the door, his heart jumped.

He tried to sit up, a desperate attempt to defend himself even in his bad condition, because he wasn't one to go down without fighting. Instead of the attack that would kill him, however, the stranger just took the two IVs away from his arm and then stretched out the gloveless hand for him to take.

“Can you stand?”, he asked, in a voice that wasn't really unfamiliar.

Steve only needed to think for a few seconds, adding up that voice to the appearances that he could catch sight of beneath the medic uniform, to recognize him.

“You're.. Happy Hogan?”, he asked, before a coughing fit stopped his voice.

Pain engulfed his whole body, stealing his breath away, and even after the cough stopped he remained still for almost a minute with his eyes closed, wheezing.

When he opened his eyes again, Hogan's worried stare was on him.

“Yes, Happy Hogan in the flesh. Jarvis says you didn't suffer irreversible damages and that walking for a short distance will be painful for you but won't cause long term complications. Are you up to coming?”

“If I'm up to?” He brushed his hand against his eyes, fighting again against the dizziness. “What's happening?”

“I'm helping you to escape, Captain.”

Steve slowly sat up. He had to keep his arm against his abdomen where the bandages luckily were still immaculate. Under the cloth he was naked, but Hogan was already handing out a uniform identical to the one he was wearing.

“Why would I want to escape?” Steve asked him, before taking the clothes.

He got dressed anyway, feeling more pain at every movement, while Hogan, after he had turned his back to give him some privacy, controlled the door.

“Miss Potts gave me the order to save you, since S.H.I.E.L.D. is keeping Bruce Banner illegally detained in this hospital. Thor, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are already moving as we speak to reach the extraction point. I've been sent here to help you. We have a car ready for us close to one of the exits.”

“But...”

Hogan stopped him with his index finger and brought his other hand to his ear. He listened for a few seconds, before his gaze and his attention returned to him.

“Jarvis guarantees that we'll have the path cleared for a couple of minutes, since all the military personnel are trying to reach the reinforced room where doctor Banner is being held, but we need to move now.”

The thought startled him abruptly, now that his mind was starting to function again.

“They're well? My teammates?”

The last he remembered of them was the prelude of a deadly defeat, with Thor covered in his own blood and still bleeding, Natasha with a wounded arm and the Hulk rendered harmless. He managed to stand, but once he was on his feet he stumbled, his legs threatening to give out. He would have fallen if not for Hogan, who was ready to catch him and help him to stay upright.

“More or less, but they're all alive. Now could you please help me to save you? The clock is ticking and I'm not sure I'd be able to move without raising any suspicions if I had to carry you.”

 

 

 

“How's the situation, Jarvis?”

She had trusted the AI with every move in the last fifteen minutes, while she contacted some friends from the press to have a backup plan if the ace in her pocket didn't work. She had also left a message for Rhodey, even if she wasn't sure on which side he would be on in case Fury made an open move against Stark Industries. After all, Rhodey was still a man of the government and she was no Tony.

She didn't think that S.H.I.E.L.D. would react immediately against her, especially not with a military counterattack, but she preferred to be prepared to face everything.

“Director Fury managed to escape from the room where I had trapped him. Agent Hill has gathered together a little squad of armed agents, but they're currently trapped in the hallway next to the one the Avengers will have to carry doctor Banner through. My estimation is that Hill and her soldiers will free themselves twelve minutes too late.”

“Probability of success?”

“Seventy-two percent, increasing slightly as we speak. I hacked into the frequencies S.H.I.E.L.D. uses and I jammed all the communications except the one with the earpiece that Agent Romanoff managed to retrieve.”

Pepper allowed herself a low sigh, half in relief and half with exhaustion, repressing the urge to bite one of her nails.

“Good. What about victims? Do we have any casualties?”

“Negative. The two doctors Mister Hogan rendered unconscious should wake up in half an hour without any collateral effects, while the official Agent Barton knocked out has only had a little concussion. My estimation is that he will wake with an intense headache but no permanent damages.”

Pepper nodded. No casualties was good news. Not that Happy had entered the S.H.I.E.L.D. hospital with a weapon, or better, with a conventional weapon – the glove prototype with tranquillizer darts had been a perfect gadget for the operation, since it had no metal parts that wouldn't pass the control of a metal detector – but in the building there were trained soldiers, spies and assassins, and she wasn't sure that a hypothetical fight between them and Natasha or Clint would end without spilling some blood.

She watched them through the monitor while she held her breath.

Clint was the first in line, with a gun that looked almost out of place in his hand. Thor was stumbling behind him, almost bent over, like walking was a task much too difficult for him to accomplish. Natasha closed the line, pushing the stretcher where a still asleep Bruce was resting on.

They had almost reached the elevator that would bring them to the roof.

Following the urge to reassure herself, more than to warn them, she grabbed the microphone.

“Natasha, Fury is onto you guys. Jarvis has cleared the path to the roof, but I'm afraid that he will catch up with you before you reach it.”

The spy didn't even touch the ear where she had hidden the earpiece.

“Thanks for the warning. I'll take care of it.”

On the screens in front of her, Jarvis was showing the feeds of the hospital's surveillance cameras, allowing her to follow the Avengers' escape.

In one monitor, Natasha was talking to Clint, then he replaced her in pushing the stretcher and she covered his and Thor's back while they started walking again.

On the other monitor, Happy was hobbling towards the emergency exit Jarvis had opened for him, panting under the weight of Captain America. Luckily for him, all the doctors and the agents were trying to reach the room where Bruce had been held only a few minutes before, so he didn't encounter anyone and managed to reach the street without being noticed.

Pepper exhaled a relieved sigh when she saw him and Steve disappear inside one of Tony's cars.

Once Happy returned to the tower, she would give him a big raise on his paycheck.

She massaged her temples before shifting her gaze to another screen.

At least, Happy and Steve were safe.

She tightened her lips, suppressing a smile.

Now it was the turn of the rest of the team. Counting every foot which separated them from the roof and comparing that distance to the one between them and Fury, she prepared herself for an anguished wait.


	61. Chapter 59: Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here come Loki and Tony again, since the chapter is all about them. It's the longest one I've ever written for this story and I thank fabricdragon for her help since her corrections helped me a lot.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments, I hope you'll like this chapter. Enjoy your reading^^

**Chapter 59: Closer**

 

Tony had woken in a good mood, after a good night of rest. Again. He hadn't dreamed of Afghanistan, nor had he dreamed of dead children, nor of blood staining his hands or of a hole in his chest where his Reactor should have been, or Pepper who hated him or his teammates who rejected him with faces full of contempt. He didn't remember dreaming about anything, actually, and that had been for the best.

After the fake sunlight outside the windows had woken him up, he had spent some few minutes musing on how ridiculous it was that now the situation between him and Loki had been turned around so much, with the god, his former tormentor, now a wounded, helpless patient, and Tony himself who at first had been a prisoner now a sort of doctor wannabe.

When he had decided to leave the couch and go seeing how Loki was, he had found him still asleep.

He had remained there without moving or speaking, simply watching him. The god was surprisingly peaceful, now, and he couldn't avoid the thought that he was beautiful like that, without the madness in his eyes and the hatred and rage that distorted his features. The blue on his skin was nowhere to be seen, but still he was curios about Loki's true form, about the coldness of his body and the red in his eyes. And not only that, the god's tousled hair was sprayed in a messy heap on the cushion and he had the urge to touch it.

It took a while before Tony realized how odd and creepy it was to watch his own enemy sleeping.

Since a worsening in Loki's conditions didn't seem likely, he hurried out of the bedroom and to the bathroom, where he took shelter under the hot stream in the shower stall.

For a few, precious minutes, he didn't think about anything.

Apart from the strange moment with a sleeping Loki – and really, he hoped he forgot that soon enough – he had a lot of other things he had to concentrate on, which carried a cold, stomach-twisting dread.

There was the plan of escaping he should work on, but that carried the thought of his friends and of Pepper too, something he wasn't prepared to face, so he preferred ignoring it for the while and have a long, relaxing shower instead.

When he left the bathroom to make some breakfast, he discovered that the food supplies had decreased more than he had noticed, now that he had to feed the god too, so there wasn't much he could eat.

He made an attempt to cook some scrambled eggs with the last bacon strips, which ended in a tasty success, and after he ate his portion of breakfast, he put the rest of the food on a plate and brought it to the bedroom.

Loki hadn't woken up yet, so he left it on the bedside table, careful not to interrupt his rest, since the god's circled eyes and pale face told him that he needed as much sleep as he could have.

It was when he returned to the kitchen to do some cleaning that it struck him: he had done everything with neither hesitation nor particular emotions, like it was normal for him to take care of the enemy that was keeping him trapped there.

It was so normal, in fact, that he shivered when he realized how comfortable he was in the god's company and he stopped his own thoughts before they reached some dreaded conclusions.

He was just about to finish washing the dishes, the way he had found to keep himself busy and to distract his own mind, when the unmistakable sounds of pieces of cutlery made him return to the bedroom.

Like he had expected, not only was Loki now awake, but he had already started eating and, given the already half empty plate, he was also hungry. He seemed even in a better shape than the day before, since he had managed to sit up without any help and Tony didn't see any blood seeping through the sheet that covered the god's lower half.

“Good morning, Your Evilness. Should I conclude that breakfast was of your liking?” he asked, nodding towards the plate.

Loki looked at him with a disdainful expression.

“I guess I cannot expect any better from a mortal,” he replied, after having swallowed the last bite of scrambled eggs.

Tony faked to be hit directly to his heart, pressing one hand on the left side of his chest, next to the Reactor.

“Those are harsh words, Reindeer Games. And to think that I even brought breakfast to you while you were in bed.”

“It was edible. However, I find it really sad to be so proud of such a meager meal,” the god said, before he stretched towards the bedside table to put the empty plate on it.

Even if no sounds escaped from his closed lips, he grimaced in doing so, testifying that even a simple movement like that had been painful for him.

For a moment, Tony had to fight the urge to help him.

“If it's a problem of quantity, since I'm terribly generous and benevolent, I'd gladly prepare a second portion for you, but the fridge and the pantry are almost empty.” He made a pause to show his best innocent look and hide the grin that tempted his mouth. “If you lower your magic defenses around the house for a while, I can go shopping for food and even buy you some nice things.”

On the god's lips appeared the shadow of the smile.

“You can do better than that, Stark.”

Loki seemed in a good mood too, which was unbelievable, considering that usually his mood swung between homicidal craziness and deadly, threatening amusement.

His eyes, however, were still focused on the exact point where Tony had touched his chest in that outraged display of pain and delusion.

Tony followed his gaze, realizing abruptly that he wasn't wearing a sweater. Even worse, he had put on his t-shirt while his skin was still wet from the shower so now the cloth didn't hide anything of the Reactor underneath.

He ignored the urge to cover it with his palm, because he didn't want to show his weakness in front of a god who would use it like a weapon. Instead he crossed his arms and pressed his back into the wall in a lazy position that would never seem like a retreat.

“Why is my Reactor so interesting for you?” Apart from being an unique invention that only a genius like he was would have been able to create, of course, but Loki was an alien who didn't know a lot about terrestrial technology, and still he showed so much curiosity not even for his suit, but only regarding his Reactor. “It's because it blocked your magic stick, isn't it?”

The god frowned.

“It possess a strange energy.”

Tony smiled, even if now he was divided between the pride and the satisfaction of having captured the interest of the god and the discomfort which was half worry at having the god's attention focused on the most precious part of his body.

“Don't worry, Bambi, you're not the only one who doesn't understand how it works. In fact, maybe only two or three people in the world would be able to realize the full extent of my genius.”

But part of him wanted to teach Loki the basis of engineering so that the god could understand how much impressed he should have been and how much admiration he should have shown.

Loki gave him a glance that could be both disdain and regal indifference. He had even stopped staring at his Reactor, probably to deprive Tony of that satisfaction, but he knew he had struck him.

A mortal who had been able to surprise and to impress an alien god, not bad.

Then, because he was bored and he still hadn't stopped wondering about his captor, he decided that some probing for information wouldn't hurt, at least as long as the god was bedridden. He even knew what to use to convince him.

“Can I ask you something without you trying to tear my head off?”

Loki shifted his gaze from Tony's eyes to his arms and finally to his legs, like he was choosing his target.

“I could be benevolent and tear off one of your limbs, instead.”

“I remain unharmed, you answer my question and I'll allow you to see my Reactor. In my hand.”

He knew he had won even before he finished the sentence, given the eagerness that crossed the god's eyes.

“Show me your Reactor first, then.”

Tony took a big breath. Despite being the one who offered this kind of agreement, now his hands were shaking and he had to call for all his pride to not step back and instead to take off his t-shirt.

He had a last, brief hesitation, then he pulled out the Reactor for a few inches, revealing the hole underneath.

He wasn't truly breathing and part of him was aware that the only two people he had allowed to see him like that had been Pepper and Bruce, but when Loki's eyes became entranced with his Reactor, without showing anything of the usual disdain or detachment, he felt a spark of triumph.

A god was studying him like he was an artifact and a mystery, like he was a creature worthy of attention, a mortal who had been able to amaze a being who was centuries, maybe even several thousands of years old. He was so fascinated with the interest that Loki was showing him that at first he didn't realize his hand was moving.

He only noticed it when it was too late and he couldn't do anything but follow the green light that emanated from the elegant fingers of the god with panicked eyes. The glow reached his chest with an impalpable touch that he didn't have the time to escape from anymore.

He gritted his teeth, while the green magic surrounded the Reactor. His breath was stuck in his throat and he couldn't move or think, because the panic had frozen his muscles. Then he felt a light itching on his chest, where the Reactor was connected to his body.

Even if it wasn't painful, that contact was too intimate, too personal, and it gave him goose bumps.

It was too much. With his lungs still frozen from fear, he pulled back abruptly.

“That's enough”, he wheezed, trying not to shiver too much.

He put the Reactor back in his chest, but his fingers were trembling, his breath was too fast and erratic and his legs were threatening to give out under him. Even if the god didn't try to take it away, he felt like his heart was exposed, like the hole in his chest had become an abyss and his body was naked and defenseless. He didn't calm down, not even when he put his t-shirt back on and then covered the Reactor with his hand, because he still felt Loki's magic inside him.

“What the fuck did you do to me?”

He almost expected the green light to appear again, to dig into his flesh from the inside, trapping his Reactor in a vicious grip, crushing it, and condemning him to a worse death than the one Obadiah had wanted to inflict upon him.

“I desired to know its composition.”

Tony glared at him, because that wasn't what they had agreed apon and in no way had he granted the god the permission to touch his Reactor. Even worse, Loki had spoken in a resentful tone, like he had been offended, and now was staring at his own fingers with displeased eyes.

“Well? What's going on? First you put your magic hand on me and then you react like you're the one who's been violated?”

Loki met his eyes with an equally hostile expression.

“The energy residing inside that contraption... it rejects my magic.”

“Good to know, Piton, I hope it burned you. And next time avoid touching what you shouldn't touch.”

He was still breathing too fast. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, willing his heart to slow down and his muscles to relax. When he opened his eyes again, as ready to face the god as he would ever be, he was surprised that Loki hadn't spoken until then.

“Your question?”

For a moment he looked at the god without understanding, then he remembered their agreement.

One by one, he moved the fingers away from his Reactor and returned to his earlier position, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You told me you didn't want Asgard's throne, when you attacked Thor. What did you want then?”

“That would be your question? Not asking what my intentions with you are, what I am going to do to you or how you could escape from here?”

“I really don't like spoilers and I'm adventurous enough to discover everything on my own. So, what did you want?”

Loki looked at him for a long time, with his lips sealed. Then, a sudden exhaustion surfaced from his lineaments, like a defeated expression that made him look a lot older.

“What I could not have and that had been taken away from me.”

“The truth?”

“A lie.”

After that, there was only silence.

It seemed like the god had been drained of all his energy and Tony didn't know what to ask, since he was too busy reflecting on what he had been told.

He remembered too well what Loki's expression had been while he said that he was a monster, and Tony wondered how much of that hate and self-contempt would disappear if Loki had never discovered the truth of his origins. Maybe he would have always been a heir in the shadow of Thor, a neglected son who suffered from the unfair comparison to his big brother, but he surely would have had less reasons to be unhappy.

“You've never wanted to actually conquer the Earth, have you?” he finally asked.

“What makes you think so?”

“Come on, even as crazy as you are, you could have done much more damage with the Chitauri than you did. You used us to take care of a dangerous army that wasn't loyal to you, and I'd say you succeeded.” Maybe he should have felt more resentment towards the enemy that had used him and his teammates as puppets in an alien war, but he still couldn't shake off a sort of empathy in Loki's regards. “What I want to know is: who gave you the Chitauri?”

For a moment, the god's expression showed rage and another emotion Tony would have never expected to see from the guy who had smiled after being smashed around by the Hulk.

The next moment, the usual green light surrounded Loki's whole body and Tony grabbed his wrist without even thinking, using all his strength.

“Don't even think about it. If you want to magic yourself away somewhere, you'll have to bring me with you.”

Loki glared at him, his green eyes a silent death threat, but he was too weak to fulfill it and they both knew it.

“I know you've been tortured,” Tony went on, as soon as the green light disappeared. “I've seen the footage of when you stole the Tesseract and, sorry to wound your ego, but you looked like shit.”

In Loki's eyes appeared again that light that meant both threat and madness.

“Tortured? Foolish mortal, you have no idea of what torture is.”

_Sand invading his mouth, water in his lungs as painful as a fire, his need to breathe which was splitting his head in two parts, while his hand desperately tried to keep the battery that allowed him to live away from the basin were he was slowly drowning..._

He regained his breath with a huge effort. His lips were burning for the need to release a sharp reply and it cost him greatly swallowing down his anger.

A little part of him found it ironic that, for once, he had to be the one more mature in a discussion, but he couldn't try to strangle the god, or to take a bucket full of water and drown him, or to hit him with a cruel comment if he wanted some answers.

“Okay, now that you've called dibs on the traumatic torture and general madness, what about looking at me with your tragic, antiheroic stare and answering my question?”

The god tightened his lips, shifting his gaze from him to the wall.

“Thanos”, he said, when so many minutes had passed in silence that Tony had lost any hopes for an answer.

He bit back an ironical remark, because it seemed like, for Loki, even only saying that name had been painful.

“And that would be?”

The god gave him the pale version of his smile, which had nothing to do with his amused, crazy grin.

“You can think of him as the monster who scares all the monsters.”

“Some more details wouldn't hurt, you know?”

“He is an old enemy of the Nine Realms. They named him the Mad Titan and even the All-Father fears him. He yearns for death and destruction, his goal is to annihilate existence itself.” The god paused briefly, his lips curved into a grimace. “He wanted the Tesseract so that he would be able to reach Asgard.”

“So, correct me if I'm wrong, which is impossible since I'm never wrong, you used us to destroy this Thanos' army and planned your own defeat?”

Through the exhaustion, a glimpse of irony crossed the god's face.

“Should I give you applause?”

“No, I'll say your radiant and moved expression is enough.” He ignored the contemptuous gaze Loki threw at him and, realizing he was still holding his wrist, he let it go. “Why did you protect Asgard? I thought you disowned brother and father and all the rest of the people there.”

But not his mother, Tony realized abruptly. No one had ever told him anything about Thor's and Loki's mother.

The god grimaced again.

“Asgard is the last and most powerful defense of all the Realms. If Asgard falls, nothing shall remain standing”, he proclaimed, but there was something more he wasn't saying, something that maybe Loki himself wouldn't even recognize or accept.

He could deny his bond with Thor and react with hatred and resentment when the subjects of his adoption or of his adoptive father were being touched, but, despite everything, Asgard was still his home.

Another piece fell into place and again Tony found himself thinking that his enemy was a lot more human and relatable than he would have wanted him to be.

“Just to be clear, you're still a psychopathic asshole with a doubtful taste regarding headgears and with a great sense of fashion for what concerns clothing from the waist down”, he told the god, searching for his gaze. “And I don't know a thing about your mother, but I think that your adoptive father has been a real dick.”

Loki's expression turned shocked.

“The All-Father isn't...”, he protested with a voice full of outrage, before stopping himself in mid sentence.

Tony continue staring back at him, unperturbed.

“All-Father, is it? I wouldn't entrust a plant to someone like that, let alone a child.”

Loki stared at him with his mouth open in disbelief, for one rare occasion utterly wordless – which tempted Tony with a suicidal joke. Then the surprise in his face disappeared in favor of another emotion and an unexpected sound filled the room.

Tony needed a couple of seconds to realize what was happening and to reassure himself that no, he wasn't becoming crazy after all the days he had spent in the company of a psychopathic god.

Said psychopathic god was laughing. In a spontaneous, entertained way, like Tony had said the funniest thing in the world, not an indisputable truth.

And among all the kinds of Loki's laughter that Tony had heard – the threatening one, the mad one, the bitter, sarcastic one he used to hide his own wound – that laughter was the most sincere.


	62. Chapter 60: Bonding times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank fabricdragon for her help and corrections, and thank you all for all the comments, I didn't expect receiving so many of them!
> 
> So here it's my new chapter, a lot of Loki and Tony's interaction again. Please, let me know what do you think about it, I hope you'll like how they're somehow getting closer. Next chapter will be published on Friday, or even before that if I manage to, so, in the meanwhile, have a good weekend and a good week!

**Chapter 60: Bonding times**

 

It had been a strange day.

After that unexpectedly genuine laughter, they hadn't spoken. Tony became aware that he had discovered to much about the god; too many of his secrets, and too much of his real personality, to continue thinking of him only as an enemy.

He had felt awkward when Loki had stared at him for some long minutes, studying him from head to toe, while Tony tried to put on an impassible mask, and now that the god had shifted his attention to his own fingers, he found himself without anything to say.

“How many days can you survive without food?” Loki finally asked, breaking the silence.

Tony looked at him slightly suspiciously and took a few seconds to reflect on what answer to give him.

“Five or six days, I think.” He knew that some people had managed to survive weeks without eating anything, but none of them had a Reactor in their chest, or had been tortured for a month before the forced fasting started. Moreover, Tony wasn't keen on experiencing another one of his body's limits after Afghanistan and palladium poisoning. “And between the two of us, I think you would be the one most damaged by the lack of food, given how you're doing right now,” he added, gaining a scathing glance.

Aside from that, Loki didn't reply and, after a few more minutes of awkward silence, he reached for the scepter, touching the handle, and closed his eyes.

This time, the green light only surrounded the weapon and disappeared soon after, and Loki collapsed to the mattress, panting.

“Should I go looking in the kitchen?” Tony asked, once he was sure that he wasn't contemplating an unconscious god.

Loki opened his eyes again, showing an exhaustion which was more evident than before, but there was a challenging shade in his gaze too, that was kind of reassuring.

“Prepare me an adequate meal now, mortal,” he ordered, and, for once, Tony obeyed without a reply.

They ate their second and richer breakfast in silence, knowing that another barrier had fallen, that simply being enemies wasn't an appropriate description of their relationship anymore.

The intimacy of that moment hit Tony like a punch in his gut, the silence didn't let him think of anything else and he found himself with his stomach clenched.  Only when Loki attempted to stand, and his unsteadiness caught Tony's attention, did he manage to silence that uncomfortable thought.  he was on his feet in the blink of an eye. 

“What are you trying to do?”

Loki glared at him.

“I do not need your help,” he hissed, his voice as hard and inflexible as his legs were trembling.

“And I'm a virgin maid like Capsicle,” Tony replied, already by his side to support him.

Their difference in height was annoying, but he was good at pretending he didn't notice how much taller than him the god was.

Despite his homicidal gaze, Loki let him help him all the way to the bathroom, and only there shoved him away. Shoving him away must have made the pain worse, based on Loki's sharp hiss.

Tony felt again the urge to smack him in the head for that show of self-destroying pride that could only worsen his condition, but he couldn't avoid recognizing how familiar that stupid pride was.

Seeing that Loki wasn't about to keel over and die, he turned around to give him some privacy while he heard the god doing his business like a common mortal. H e had to bite his tongue pretty hard, because he really wanted to crack a joke about how even a god as arrogant and haughty as loki had to use the bathroom once in a while , but he didn't want the god to die trying to strangle him so he somehow managed to remain stoical ly silent.

When he heard him approaching the sink to wash his hands he turned around again.

“Done everything? Now can we go back to the bedroom?”

Without even deigning him with an answer, the god finished washing his hands and bent over to turn on the water in the tub. He couldn't hide a grimace at the movement, but he didn't make a sound.

“You can go,” he dismissed Tony, while standing again, with a paler face than before.

“And let you drown in the tub, Ophelia? Don't even think about it.”

This time, Loki showed him his teeth.

“Maybe you have not understood my words, but I do not need you, mortal.”

“Yes, you do, as I need you safe and sound. Take it like me wanting to remain alive. If you want to kill yourself because of your own pride, go ahead, but not when my survival is tied to yours.”

The god didn't soften his expression, but didn't answer either.  Only after a whole minute with Tony staring back at him, ignoring his sullen expression, did he realize why Loki hadn't started taking off his clothes.

“Okay, okay, I'll turn around, don't worry, your virginal virtue is safe with me.”

Loki snorted.

“Maybe you are forgetting when you were the one worried about your virtue, Stark.”

Tony frowned. He didn't know whether he should feel more surprise or more uncomfortable, now that Loki had reminded him of the day when he was keeling at the god's feet. When he had yet to regain his voice and his mind was still stuck on the moment the girl had been killed and – no, everything but this, he must not, he didn't have to think about it, not after all the last few days of peace, not after he thought he could rebuild himself.

He took a deep breath and focused on what was in front of him.

Loki. So close he could lift one hand and touch him. Who was about to have a bath.

He almost felt ashamed of how it took only that thought to calm him down.

He swallowed, thinking of the god's last reply.

“Does it mean I can look?” he asked, with less provocation and more curiosity than he would have liked to admit.

For a brief moment, Loki looked at him with the same exasperated stare Pepper used to gave him, even if the god had a murderous undertone that she lacked.

He didn't answer no, however, so Tony watched while he took off his clothes with slow, painful movements and revealed the most perfect male body he had ever had the chance to look at. Loki was slender enough to wear those terribly tight pants without being ridiculous, but there were lean, well-defined muscles under his pale skin, totally adapted to an athletic body in top shape. The hole in his side wasn't there anymore and Tony couldn't see a scar either, only a patch of skin with a different shade of pink.

The lack of body hair was a pleasant surprise, since he preferred men with a sort of androgynous look, and as soon as his eyes went lower, he realized that the god had nothing to complain about in that area.

“When you finish admiring my body, you can go cook my next meal,” a voice commented, with a hint of amusement.

Tony startled with a silent curse.

“Admiring is an exaggerated way to put it. Let's say that I was checking how your healing was proceeding.”

Loki snorted as Tony realized how obvious the lie was, given where his eyes were lingering.

“I wanted to know how you aliens are down there?” he tried again.

Loki's smile withered in an instant. In place of it, a rising anger hardened his expression and Tony understood immediately what was wrong in what he had said. He lifted his hands in a placating gesture, like he wanted to surrender.

“Hey, wait a minute, I wasn't hinting at your origins. We made an agreement, remember? But come on, it's not an everyday experience to have the possibility of looking at a naked alien god in flesh, blood and horns.”

His words made the miracle of softening Loki's expression and unexpectedly a smile appeared on his lips.

“Do I have to suppose that Thor learnt to adopt a decorous behavior since he has been to Midgard?”

Tony couldn't hide a shiver. He still remembered way too vividly the morning when he had gone to the kitchen after a sleepless night in the lab, only to find the God of Thunder there, in all his almighty morning prowess, while eating pop-tarts in his birthday suit and talking to Jarvis.

“Okay, let's say that I saw more about Thor than I've ever wanted to see in my entire life, but bearded, muscular warriors aren't exactly my type.”

Loki's smile widened until it showed the teeth underneath.

“While I would be?”

Tony shrugged.

“What can I say, I've a weakness for psychopaths who wear skinny leather pants like a model.”

He had spoken with a sort of casualness, but he remembered way too well the god's mouth on his own, Loki's taste, the hand that had palmed his erection and the kiss he had managed to steal when he was drunk. And now Loki was naked in front of him and he couldn't suppress a look of arousal.

Loki welcomed his words with a satisfied silence and then he collected his residual strength to go into the tub, rejecting with a scathing glare any aid Tony was willing to provide.

After the last threatening hiss he received, Tony gave up and sat down on the floor, ready to intervene if the situation became dangerous and at the same time watching with a mix of amusement and appreciation the god who was having a bath like a mere mortal.

He didn't know how long they remained there after Loki had cleaned himself from the dried blood and the sweat and had simply relaxed in the warm water with his eyes closed. Only when Tony didn't feel his legs anymore, did Loki decide it was time to return to his bedroom.

The worst part was that the god wanted to stand up without his help, showing a total lack of good sense, so Tony had to fight against gravity and against Loki at the same time.

At one point, he took off his t-shirt, since it was already half wet due to the god's attempt at drowning them both, and he didn't think to put a dry one on until he managed to bring the heavy bastard to bed, between hisses and choked death threats.

Only when they were having dinner, or at least his experiment of a meal, he realized he was naked above the waist, because Loki's eyes kept lingering where his Reactor was.

His first impulse was to hide it with some clothes and to put some distance between them, but he chose not to. Loki had already seen his worst memories and had already violated his Reactor with his green mojo, so, both as a challenge and because he liked the way the god was enrapture by it, he remained shirtless.

Somehow, there was silence again while they ate, but it wasn't the uncomfortable atmosphere of some hours before. Once the dinner ended, Tony decided that the bed was a good alternative to another night on the couch, so he climbed on the free part of the mattress.

“What do you think you are doing?” the god asked immediately, as soon as Tony made himself comfortable with his back against a cushion, sitting only a few inches away from him.

He chuckled and lifted the book he had carried with him, with a vindictive light in his eyes.

“Just reading you a bedtime story.”

It was the only warning he gave him before he began reading a random chapter of Twilight out loud.

It only took five minutes for the god to reach the breaking point: after only a couple of pages, he slapped the book from Tony's hand, causing it to fall down on his legs, and it was pure luck that Loki was still so weak, or, Tony knew it for sure, with that petty gesture he would have found himself with a couple of broken femurs – crippled by a crappy book for girls, Clint would laugh at him for ages, if he ever returned to his teammates.

As things stood, though, he only made a grimace for his sore legs, but the book's fall had no dire consequences and soon he managed to smile again.

“Don't you like it?” he asked, faking complete innocence. “But it was you who chose it.”

Loki's eyes were full of disgust.

“A creature of the darkness who completely subjugates a stupid mortal girl and yet does not take advantage of her trust to use her for his own goal, nor to destroy her? That is revolting.”

“I'm surprised you know what this book is about so well. Maybe you're a secret fan of the saga?”

“I have been living on your Realms for almost a year. It is unavoidable for me to come in touch with your _culture_ ,” the god replied, emphasizing the last word with clear contempt.

Tony threw the book away with a swat of his hand, his eyes wide because of the offense.

“That is not culture! Math is culture. Physics, engineering, Star Wars, Star Trek, Back to the future, Jurassic Park. My inventions are culture.” 

The only response he gained was a snort, which made him feel even more offended.

“When you're not half dead anymore, I'll show you what our culture really is,” he continued, before stopping himself abruptly.

He shifted his gaze from the god to the wall, trying to take his comment back.

When the god recovered completely, Tony would build his anti-magic field device and escape from there, showing Loki and the world the superiority of science over magic. When the god healed, they would be enemies again and there would be no need to have a conversation that fell outside of the usual bantering during the fight.

The mere thought sounded wrong. Fighting against each other now that he had discovered Loki's secret, his weak point hidden beneath his skin, and that the god himself had read inside him, reaching memories and fears that not even his teammates,  _not even Pepper_ knew about. Now that they would be able to wound each other deeper than they ever did.

He swallowed through a dry throat, hearing his dumb comment still echoing in the room like an uncomfortable presence. Loki was still silent, though, which was strange.

Tony glanced at him and he realized why: the god had closed his eyes and had fallen asleep without a sound. For once, he really seemed to be calm and at peace and even if his face still showed exhaustion and pain, Tony had the impression that he wasn't fighting against some nightmare or bad memory. He looked young, now, despite his age and the power Tony had witnessed. Young and alone and not healed, yet.

The use of his magic had to have tired him out, as well as the bath.

Tony watched him sleeping for a few long minutes, wondering what to do with that hint of satisfaction and strange sensation in his chest that he felt knowing that Loki had allowed himself to be so vulnerable in his presence.

He shook his head with a sigh.

Now that the god was asleep, he really could work on his invention and his plan of escape, but the bed was comfortable and Loki's figure wasn't a threatening presence but, as much as it crept him out admitting it, he was reassured by him, like he expected that the god would wake him again if he found himself in his usual nightmares' grasp.

The Twilight book where he had written down the first steps of his project was still on the floor, a mute invitation that was less alluring than it should have been.

_Tomorrow_ , he decided, before lying down on the mattress next to the god and closing his eyes.

The first images of his dreams brought green eyes, a strong but slender body and the laughter, when it came, wasn't threatening at all.


	63. Chapter 61: Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, and a great thank to fabricdragon for her help. Even if it's not about Loki or Tony, I hope you'll like this chapter anyway. Enjoy your reading^^

**Chapter 61: Safe**

 

_Fury reached them when they were only four feet from the elevator that would bring them to the roof._

_Four feet from the mission's success, and his hand was the fastest in pulling out the gun._

_Natasha immediately went between him and the stretcher where Bruce, who was still unconscious, was lying; a human shield with bloodied bandages, but she was the most expendable and most suitable for that task among them: she was already wounded, even if not too severely, while Thor was too hurt to be able to stop Fury and Clint was well enough to push the stretcher forward, until they reached the Quinjet, allowing them all to reach the safety of Stark Tower._

_In the end, they all realized it was a perfectly reasonable choice and even if Clint tried to make her reconsider her decision, when she ordered him to go on without her, speaking with a hard voice, he reluctantly obeyed. The closing doors of the elevator at her back hit her ears like the last sound of her life._

“ _Why, Natasha?” Fury asked her, with his finger steady on the trigger._

_At another time, she would have tried to attack him, to feint left and then try to disarm him before becoming a target. It was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s director she was facing, though, a man too dangerous even with half of his eyesight and so many years older than her, to take on while she was wounded._

_He would pull the trigger before her wounded body moved._

“ _I'm acting in the most reasonable way.”_

_Fury aligned his gun to her head._

_Only ten seconds from the moment the elevator had started his ascent. Too little time for Clint to have arrived at the Quinjet already._

“ _I can't let you do that. Tell Potts to desist from her foolish attack and make Barton come back. There won't be any repercussions for you, but I want Banner in the containment room five minutes from now.”_

_With her eyes still focused on the gun, Natasha lifted her hand and extracted the earpiece, before letting it fall to the floor where she stomped on it, hearing the cracks of its components._

_A glimpse of rage hardened Fury's face._

“ _What do you think is gonna happen when Banner wakes up? How do you think you'll keep the Hulk at bay?”_

_Natasha stepped back one step at a time, until she found herself next to the elevator._

“ _I think that whatever happens we'll take care of it. As a team.”_

_For a moment, the finger on the trigger had a hesitation and pulled back, before returning to that little piece of metal that, with the tiniest of pressure, would end her existence._

“ _Natasha.”_

_That time there was a threatening undertone in Fury's voice; one last warning that even if spoken wordlessly carried more danger than a death sentence._

_The gun was still targeting the center of her forehead, but there was also the reassuring weight in the inside pocket of her jacket, so close to the fingers of her unharmed hand. Only one second would be enough, for her._

“ _If you want to stop me, Director, shoot me. But know that you'll only have that one chance to be faster than me.”_

_A fraction of a second, a mistake or a hesitation from Fury's part, and she would pull out her gun, aiming at the spy and fire in one swift movement that had been part of her since her childhood. A movement so familiar she wouldn't even have to think about it._

_The finger on the trigger didn't have hesitations or second thoughts._

_A gunshot echoed inside her head, and then everything disappeared in a red sea._

 

Natasha opened her eyes with a startle.

In the time it took for her vision to get used to the darkness, she had already stood up and moved, with the knife that had been under her cushion gripped tightly in her hand, crouching with her back against the wall.

There was a dull pain in her nerves and body, and she almost wasn't feeling her wounded arm. Painkillers, so powerful she felt her own movement too slow and sluggish. The kind of painkillers she would allow herself to take only when she was in a safe place. Her eyes darted around while she felt a strange sensation of safety and calm, but the shot hadn't stopped ringing inside her head, yet.

“Miss Romanoff, I can assure you that there is no danger here.”

She breathed deeply a couple of times, before standing up again. She was in her room in Stark Tower, now she could recognize it.

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

“You are welcome.”

She had already experienced the scene that had invaded her dreams, her subconscious faithfully replaying the dialogues and the actions. But Fury hadn't shot her, then.

 

“ _If you want to stop me, Director, shoot me. But know that you'll only have that one chance to be faster than me.”_

_The gun continued targeting her forehead, but the finger on the trigger didn't move._

“ _I won't deprive myself of my best agent in this way. Not as long as she remains my agent. However, if you and Barton have decided to change sides, you know already you won't survive.”_

“ _I'm not the one who changed sides.” The elevator's door was next to her arm, so close she could touch it. “I remained loyal to the orders and to my teammates even when S.H.I.E.L.D. betrayed my trust.”_

_Fury let out a sigh and lowered the gun, giving her an opening._

“ _Not even S.H.I.E.L.D. can oppose the Council on every decision and you know that Banner is a danger. Now that Stark isn't here, his self-control is compromised; he's a time bomb ready to explode any day, by now.”_

_He wasn't a real threat anymore, with his guard down, and Natasha felt her fingers tingling for the need to pull out her gun and punish Fury's hesitation. It would be so easy, for her, to listen to her own instinct and kill the threat she had in front of her. Easier than remaining still without doing anything, easier than ignoring the urge to ensure her safety through blood after a life where the only rule for her survival had always been to kill whoever put her life in danger._

_Her training as the Black Widow was still vivid in her mind and hadn't truly disappeared, not even after she joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and then the Avengers. Even in that moment, her instinct screamed for her to kill Fury and then disappear, living for herself like she had always done._

_Since she became an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., however, she had learned to control herself, to discover new faces of her personality which differed from the spy who had been trained since childhood to be the perfect assassin. There were people who she had reluctantly begun considering friends, there was Fury himself, as a mentor and a commander, who had her respect, there were the Avengers, who gave her a strange and pleasant feeling of belonging, maybe for the first time in her life. Above all, there was Clint. She wasn't really ready to lose all that._

_Her hand remained empty, the gun still weighing heavily in her pocket._

“ _Banner is a danger only when other people treat him as such. At least in that, Stark was right.”_

_She pushed the elevator's button without looking at it or at the doors that were opening, because her eyes remained focused on Fury._

_He took a step closer, but not as a threat._

“ _The Council will never forgive me if it knows I've let you go.”_

_Natasha smiled at him, before she showed him her side and entered the elevator, ignoring the instinct that wouldn't have wanted to be so vulnerable._

“ _Then it's for the best that you remained trapped in the control room, without knowing of our escape.”_

 

A dim light spread from the ceiling, until it made the shadows in the room disappear, and Natasha shifted her attention from her memories to the present.

“How are the others?” she asked, while returning to her bed, knife still in hand.

“Clint Barton remained awake for a couple of hours, before trusting me and the Tower's defenses enough to allow himself to sleep. He is in his room, now. Thor Odinson is resting, since his wound reopened, but two doctors stitched it up again and I am monitoring his condition. Considering his healing factor, he should awaken and be able to make some simple movements by tomorrow evening. The same can be said for Captain Rogers, even if in his case the healing process should take a little longer. Doctor Banner is now in the reinforced room in the underground floor, still unconscious.”

“How're his vitals?”

“Lower than the norm, but not so much that it would be dangerous.”

Natasha nodded, sitting back on her bed breathing in relief, without saying anything more.

“May I suggest you to rest for a few more hours?”

From the window, she could see a dark sky. It was still night, considering also the silence and the calm that surrounded her. Since her arrival, a whole afternoon and an evening had passed, and still S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't attacked.

“You can, Jarvis, but before that I want to understand the situation.” A similar calm would never be possible if S.H.I.E.L.D. had made its move. “News from Fury?”

“Miss Potts had a conversation with him forty minutes after your arrival at the tower. They have come to a non belligerence agreement, at least until you are healed again and doctor Banner wakes up.”

Natasha nodded again. Some good news, but instead of reassuring her they made other questions appear.

 

“ _We have a lot to talk about,” she had told Pepper, once in the safety of the tower._

“ _Yes, but later. Now you all have to rest.”_

_Natasha had been on the point to protest, but Pepper had anticipated her, gingerly lying her hand on Natasha's unharmed shoulder._

“ _The Tower is protected. Don't worry, Natasha, I can keep S.H.I.E.L.D. at bay for a few hours.”_

 

Pepper knew something. She had already realized it before, during that conversation, but then Thor had been about to collapse to the ground, his face so pale that it had been clear that only his strength of will was keeping him awake, and lowering her gaze she had seen red stains on his bandage. Even she was hurting everywhere, so tired that every step had been an agony, and Clint had looked at her with bloodshot eyes, showing a tension that would have made him attack at the tiniest provocation.

Accepting the offer of a bed to rest on had been the smartest choice and the same bed was a temptation even now, a possibility to gain her strength back.

She lay down on the mattress, without letting the knife go.

“If something happens, some kind of attack or any dangerous situations, wake me.”

“Of course, Miss Romanoff.”

Little by little, she relaxed in the safety of the familiar room.

“You can keep out the 'Miss', Jarvis. I've never been one in my entire life.”

“Only because you have never met people polite enough in your path.”

She found herself smiling a little.

Only Stark could have invented an artificial intelligence with its own personality and the tendency to answer back. The thought made her feel lighter, somehow, despite the threat of a S.H.I.E.L.D. counterattack, the absence of Stark and a crazy god with enough power to annihilate her entire team.

Tomorrow she would fight again, as always, but her room in the tower felt like herself, like safety and home.

Without releasing the knife, she allowed herself to close her eyes and fell asleep.


	64. Chapter 62: The spy and the civilian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm leaving for a short vacation, but I didn't want to leave you empty handed, so here it is my new chapter. I hope you'll like it, even if it's a really short update. I'll be back soon with more, but in the meanwhile, enjoy your reading.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for your feedbacks, I love them all. And I want to thank fabricdragon again for her help and her correction.

**Chapter 62: The spy and the civilian**

 

Jarvis warned her of Bruce's awakening at exactly two a.m..

She hadn't tried to sleep at all, since she was so nervous even hours after she had unleashed the Skynet protocol. Luckily, it had all went the way she wanted. Even the conversation with Fury.

 

“ _You have made a huge mistake,” were the first words Fury said to her when he picked up his phone._

“ _Not bigger than yours. Did you really think I would watch while Tony's best friend became a guinea pig?”_

_The anger she felt at that thought made her nauseated. It passed through her body like an icy wave, sharpening her mind, while she prepared to fight against the director of an organization which should protect the world but had instead showed her that it wasn't so different from Hydra._

“ _And how do you think you'll come out of this unscathed? You're not a spy or a fighter. You have just sanctioned the end of your position and of Stark Industries,” Fury commented, with a hard, vindictive voice._

_Pepper smiled coldly, even if he couldn't see her._

“ _You spies and self-proclaimed heroes. You're always so used to watching your back from your own counterparts that you underestimate all the other people.”_

“ _You can stall for as much time as you want, but there's a S.H.I.E.L.D. commando ready to depart, right now, to arrest you and remove you and any other inhabitants from the tower.”_

_Her smile disappeared._

“ _Then I suggest you call it back immediately.”_

“ _Why should I?”_

“ _Alaska. 58°26′40″ North, 134°13′47″ West.”_

_On the other end of the phone, there was only silence for a couple of minutes._

“ _None of the Avengers know of it, do they?” she murmured._

_She didn't need to explain the consequences._

_Fury breathed deeply, like he had to collect his energy to give her an answer._

“ _One day. I'll give you one day, and then I expect complete access to the tower, to negotiate the return of Banner and of my agents.”_

“ _No, Nick. You and S.H.I.E.L.D. will let the Avengers stay here until they choose otherwise. The only way they'll leave the tower will be if they want to leave. Bruce will remain under my supervision until he wakes up and, if you or the Council try to come anywhere near him, Stark Industries will withdraw every bit of support to the American government they have given until now and I'll reveal your little secret.”_

 

In the end, Fury surrendered like she had expected, agreeing to a truce, but the thought of being ready to face hidden attacks had kept her awake.

Because of that, Jarvis' words had reached her while she was sitting at her desk, shuffling some documents without really reading them.

She stood up immediately, letting the files scatter on the desk.

“And is he Bruce? Or the Hulk?”

“He became the Hulk in the exact moment he opened his eyes. I'm sorry.”

Right at that moment, she heard the echo of a crash, a sound so faint she wouldn't even have heard it if she hadn't had all her senses on alert.

“The containment room?” she asked, now hearing her heart too, beating too fast and too loud in her chest.

Once she had been reassured about Bruce's survival, she had dismissed the doctors and had let him rest in the reinforced room Tony had built for him, with no IVs, no strange machinery attached to his body, simply on a comfortable large bed.

She hadn't thought for one second that his awakening would be calm and serene, but now she worried about how much anger the Hulk had accumulated during the hours he had been trapped in an unconscious body.

“Considering my calculation, it won't last more than twenty-two minutes.” Jarvis hesitated, in a way that made him so human that Pepper wondered not for the first time when an artificial intelligence had stopped being an impersonal voice and had become almost a person. “Do you want me to call Agent Romanoff? Or Thor Odinson?”

For a moment, Pepper was tempted to simply say yes, to go along with the worried undertone in Jarvis' voice and give someone else that responsibility, maybe give it to a trained warrior, to a person who, unlike her, knew how to face dangers; but she wasn't a coward.

When he had arrived, Thor had seemed like he was about to keel over and die, so pale and weak, with his eyes half-closed and the hand that wasn't holding Mjolnir pressed against his bloodstained bandage on his abdomen. Natasha had been more vulnerable than Pepper had ever seen her, and not only because she was wounded: she was exhausted, there had been pain on her face and the need of some rest was marking her face like a scar. And Clint, who had had death inside his eyes, a pained gaze Pepper hadn't been able to meet for more than a couple of seconds.

They had trusted her, following her plan and her words. She would never ask something more from them.

“No, I'm taking care of it.”

She breathed deeply before entering the elevator that would bring her to the floor dedicated to the Hulk. Her hands were sweaty and she tried to dry them on her jacket, which seemed like it wasn't able to keep her warm anymore. Then, the descent began and any other sound became overwhelmed by the rumble of her own heart.


	65. Chapter 63: Something precious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wrong update of a few hours ago, it was the update for the Italian version of this story. Anyway, here it my new chapter. I'll add in a week the next one, so you'll know what Loki and Tony are doing, but for now I hope you won't be disappointed by this part focused on Pepper.
> 
> Thanks for the comments and the feedbacks, love them all! Special thanks to fabricdragon for her precious help.  
> Enjoy your reading^^

**Chapter 63: Something precious**

 

The elevator was going down and her heart beat faster at every floor.

The crashes, now that she had come closer to the room where Bruce was contained, were more detectable and impossible to ignore.

She closed her sweating hands into fists, forcing herself to breathe slowly and in a controlled way.

Tony had done it a thousand times. What should it take? She only had to mimic him. Shit-eating grin, irony, provocations and unrelenting talking. Another deep breath, while the roar of a beast ready to kill hit her ears.

I _t's Bruce_ , she said to herself.  _Only Bruce_ . The gentle man she had found as an unexpected ally in the difficult task of taking care of Tony and assuring that he ate, slept, and drank something other than coffee or alcohol. He was the shy scientist who smiled at her in an awkward way when she arrived exhausted at the tower, with a bag full of documents and hurting feet, and who offered her a cup of tea and some precious moments of relaxation.

When the elevator stopped, she found herself with her heart stuck in her throat.

“Miss Potts, I fear that the containment room won't last more than seven minutes,” Jarvis said.

He hadn't abandoned the protectiveness in his voice, yet.

“It's alright,” she replied, like she was trying to convince herself.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then she began walking towards the source of the smashing sounds.

The roars had grown in intensity, at the point that they were overwhelming even the beating of her own heart, but it had been her decision to save Bruce. To turn her back on him now, without taking the responsibilities of her duties as a friend and human being, would mean not only betraying all the Avengers, first of all Bruce, but betraying Tony too.

She straightened her back and rubbed her hands on her jacket again, thinking with a bitter irony that Fury would be so glad to get rid of her through the Hulk if she didn't manage to solve the situation. That thought was enough to reinforce her will to succeed, just to show him how wrong he was.

As soon as she turned left and found herself in front of the Hulk, however, her strength of will wavered.

Bruce wasn't there anymore: in the bloodshot eyes of the Hulk she could read a limitless rage, the desire to kill and destroy and annihilate everything in his path. The bed inside the room had been torn apart; the floor showed the dent of two huge fists and the transparent walls had cracks, even though Tony himself had built the whole room using the strongest materials he could find.

The Hulk welcomed her arrival with a low growl. His eyes studied her from head to toe before becoming two cracks full of hatred, then he slammed his fist against the wall, making it creak.

Pepper found herself abruptly incapable of breathing.

It took all of her courage not to turn around and run away, out of the floor, out of the tower, to a safe place.

“Bruce,” she whispered, with the calmest and most harmless voice she could manage through the panic that was grabbing at her throat and chest.

The Hulk took a step back, looking at her.

A moment later, he charged against the wall with a crash that made the whole floor tremble and stole a scream out of her lips.

She didn't even know how the wall could still be whole. Too horrified to move, she watched him punching the wall once, twice, three times, trying to destroy the only barrier that prevented him from bringing death and destruction to all the tower and then to New York.

The cracks became deeper, reaching the ceiling, and second after second the wall was bending, it was about to give in.

_She would die._

She realized it abruptly, with a lucidity that froze the blood inside her veins.

_She would die, and then the Hulk would kill everyone in the tower, and Bruce would never forgive himself, and Tony would have no one anymore. All because of her._

Jarvis was saying something, but she wasn't able to recognize his words, all she could hear was the violent sound of the Hulk's rage, a rage which seemed ready to devour everything.

“I know that you don't like to be here, I know!” she said, screamed, almost, to overcome the crashes of the fists banging against the wall.

Another roar filled the room, and she shivered meeting his enraged eyes, but forced herself not to shift her gaze.

“And I know you miss Tony. But we're on the same side, you and I. I want to find Tony too and I need your help.”

Frowning, the Hulk stopped his fist half way. Then he stepped forward, until he pressed his forehead against the cracked wall of his room, staring at her like he hadn't decided whether he had to consider her a target, yet.

Despite all of her survival instincts, Pepper came closer.

The wall was bent, almost broken, but she forced herself to ignore what a frail shield was between her and a horrible death to hold his gaze.

“We've never met before, but I know Bruce. And I'm Tony's friend.”

A different emotion than anger fleetingly crossed his bloodshot eyes, like a glimpse of understanding.

“Tony friend. Hulk wants Tony.”

“Pepper wants Tony too.”

The Hulk frowned again, even if not in a threatening way.

“Pepper?”

“I am Pepper. Let's save Tony together, okay?”

For a moment, when the Hulk opened his mouth, she was sure that he would answer with a roar, shattering her hope of being able to reason with him. However, he didn't make a sound and instead his face tensed in what seemed pain, the rage inside his eyes was shut down by his eyelids and little by little he began shrinking back, assuming a more human and less dangerous form, while the green on his skin faded away.

After what seemed like an eternity, Pepper realized she was able to breathe again while she found herself staring at a white as a sheet Bruce.

In his eyes, when he opened them, she recognized fear. A fear as deep as the rage the Hulk had shown only a few minutes before.

“Jarvis,” she called, and she didn't have to add anything else, because the door of the reinforced room opened with a high screeching, damaged as it was.

She was at Bruce's side in a moment, crouching to support him when he bent over and began puking.

“It's over,” she told him, trying to reassure him, to give him a sense of safety after the nightmare he had endured while he was a prisoner of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctors.

He retched, than he vomited again, just fluids. He was terribly pale, his forehead almost touching the stained floor and his body trembling badly. Only after he collected enough strength to breathe a couple of times, did he lift his head to meet Pepper's worried eyes.

“No...” he wheezed, trying to push her away, before he gagged again. “I'm... I'm dangerous.”

“That's nonsense, Bruce. You are sick.” She laid her arm on his shoulder, in an attempt to warm him a little, but he was trembling so much she almost couldn't keep that contact. His skin was scorching hot, covered in sweat, and soon she felt her sleeve becoming wet, but she didn't care. She would have taken off her jacket and offer it to him, if only it would have fit.

As it was the situation, though, she could only hug him clumsily, feeling as powerless as she had felt only towards one other man in her life. A man with a hole in his chest, a man who was missing, whose thought was enough to twist her stomach in an icy grip, but that wasn't the moment to surrender to the weakness that threatened to make her eyes wet. Now she had someone she had to take care of, and she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her control.

Bruce had who knew what kind of sedatives and drugs inside his body. Even if the Hulk had allowed him to survive, it was clear that he was still suffering from the heavy sedation he had been subjected to.

“I can call one of Tony's trusted doctors,” she proposed with a hesitant voice.

He startled like he had been struck.

“No!” he yelled, a sound similar to a roar. His hand tensed, fingers trying to dig into the floor, and for a moment the pale pink of his skin assumed a greenish shade, while his body trembled. “No... no medics.”

Pepper hugged him more tightly, swallowing down her fear.

“Okay. It's only me, alright?”

She began stroking his back, ignoring the sweat, his trembling and the nauseating smell of the pool of vomit next to her brand new shoes.

Bruce nodded and slowly his pants and gags subsided a little.

Without letting him go, Pepper managed to move them both towards one of the transparent walls and she rested her back against it. Now that there wasn’t any danger anymore, she felt exhausted. She kicked her shoes away so that she could sit on the floor in a more comfortable position, then she breathed deeply, hoping that Bruce wouldn't notice how he wasn't the only one trembling. She hadn't even stopped stroking his back yet.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Dum-E appearing with a questioning chirp, offering her a blanket. She accepted it immediately, with her chest heavy from a bitter rage.

Even robots were more human than Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D..

“Thank you, Dum-E.”

At those words, Bruce lifted his head and opened his eyes, staring at her for long seconds, like he was trying to put her into focus.

“Pepper...” he murmured, talking with difficulty.

Even if he had woken up not even an hour before, he sounded beyond exhaustion. His body was probably still fighting against what S.H.I.E.L.D. had pumped into his veins, given his suffering expression and circled eyes that looked almost like bruises. Despite that, he made an attempt to stand, showing something akin to shame.

In the frenzy of the moment, at first scared to death by the Hulk and then worried for Bruce, Pepper hadn't noticed that he was naked. She tried to smile, draping the blanket around his body.

“Just rest.”

Maybe Bruce would have liked to protest, after all he had always been one to put others before his own wellness, but even his altruism and his guilt due to the Hulk weren't enough to win over the limitations of his body.

Little by little, he stopped trembling and slid down against her until he found himself with his head on Pepper's legs.

She let him, resting one hand on his shoulder.

“You are safe, here”.

Two steps away from them, Dum-E had returned with a rag and was cleaning up the pool of vomit, while Jarvis had dimmed the light.

_Safe._ He really was, they both were.

With her free hand, she brushed against his wet hair, feeling Bruce finally relaxing.

“You are safe”, she murmured again, before she closed her eyes too.

When the tiredness from the hours of tension and fear arrived to exact its price on her body, she didn't even try to fight it and allowed herself to fall asleep.


	66. Chapter 64: A mortal worthy to possess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update, because I'm going to Lucca comics for the weekend (first time I'll cosplay, I'm half excited and half terrified) and I don't know if I'll be able to update next week. I hope you'll like this chapter, I'll do my best to not make you wait for too long for the next one.  
> Thanks to all of the people who commented and left kudos, love you guys! And thanks to fabricdragon, who beta-d this chapter too.
> 
> Edit: corrected chapter uploaded, thanks again to my dear fabricdragon.
> 
> Warning: The situation in this chapter may be considered dub-con.

**Chapter 64: A mortal worthy to possess**

 

He woke up with a gasp , enveloped by an icy casket that shattered only in the moment he opened his eyes, tormented by the cold, trapped in a dungeon, falling forever...

_Only that he wasn't._

He was lying on his bed, in his room.

Not in a cold, silent cell, with chains around his wrists that blocked his magic, not in a wasteland covered in snow where the monster beneath his skin wouldn't be able to find any shelter to hide himself in. Not in the Realm he had tried to destroy when he still had had hope to earn a place in the golden family he had grown in.

He was safe, far away from prisons or empty spaces or the contempt that by now existed only in his memories; and he wasn't alone.

There was someone breathing next to him, a sound so loud that it was almost a maddening snoring. And there was a warm sensation too, another body on his bed, almost pressed against his own.

Not a threat and not even a real bother.

He touched his side, where his nerves were still pulsing in pain, but without that sharp intensity that for the first days of healing had left him without defenses; then he looked at his fingers, studying every inch of that pale skin that covered his flesh like the most perfect and reassuring lie.

He could still feel the illusion that hid the horror of his real skin fading away, the All-Father's magic being sucked in by his dying body in an attempt to cure the hole in his side, where his life was ending drop by drop.

He tightened his lips.

Now his temperature was back to normal, the normal of his appearance, at least.

While he was lying in a pool of his own blood, only half conscious, he had chosen to risk, calling a little of the cold that the monster inside himself possessed in the attempt to stop the bleeding, but when he had seen his fingers assuming the hated blue shade, and in front of Stark, he had felt his stomach churn from contempt and disgust.

He shifted his gaze, from his fingers to his prisoner – and what a strange and unsuitable word was that, to describe Stark.

Next to him laid a mere mortal, the only person who had been able to penetrate his defenses and catch his most hidden thoughts, when not even Thor had been able to come close to that. Stark had weaseled his way inside his mind without the need of a spell, searching for his worst secret and then talking about it without the horror that should have accompanied it.'

Instead of taking advantage of his weakness to torture and humiliate him, Stark had helped him to heal, more like a shield brother would do, than an enemy whose fate was intertwined with his own.

_Shield brother._

It had been so much time since he had had the illusion of having one. Thor had been his first and only companion, the only person he could have called friend, the only person he had thought of with affection.

A grimace that was almost a spasm hardened his face, shattering that thought, that lie, into a thousand pieces.

And now there was Stark, who from a mortal interesting enough to be studied had somehow become a constant presence in his mind, defeating all of his defenses.

He was a danger, more than the rest.

He should kill him, and instead he was watching him sleeping without doing anything.

He still had his eyes on him when Stark opened his eyelids and put him into focus.

“Just so you know, Edward: waking with you staring at me is too creepy.”

He smiled at him.

“I do not remember granting you permission to sleep on my bed.”

“Given your condition, you should be the one to thank me, since I left you half the space instead of taking possession of the whole bed.”

Loki turned on his side to face the mortal better, without caring about the stab of pain in his side. Then he pressed his hand to Stark's naked chest, were he could feel his heart beating, slow and regular, so  _frail._

The mortal's fingers were around his wrist in the blink of an eye.

“I can't help but noticing you're better, Grimhilde.”

Stark was tense, but not in panic, and next to the suspicion he could read inside his eyes there was a confusion which wasn't truly hostile.

“I am better enough to make you go back to sleeping on the floor with a snap of my fingers.”

He slowly shifted his hand lower, passing the cold, smooth surface of the mysterious contraption that was inside the mortal's chest, until he felt his warm skin under his own fingers.

Stark still had his eyes on him, his hand still on his wrist, even if he wasn't rebelling.

The mortal had only showed a shiver when he had touched his fake heart, but his pupils were blown from something different than fear and his breathing was fast but not from terror.

_Good_ , because for once he didn't want to cause panic, not to this mortal.

Stark was the first one who understood. The only one who had defended him against Odin, who had even dared to think he deserved a defense.

And, if he couldn't kill him, the mortal would be his.

He lowered his hand again, more to explore Stark's body than to caress him, and the mortal swallowed hard, before trying to push his hand away.

“Okay, this is too creepy even for me, Harry Potter.”

Loki was on top of him in an instant, smiling while he trapped his wrists above his head.

“Do you still believe the illusion that your will matters, mortal?”

The alarmed flash on his face didn't cover completely another, deeper emotion, a desire that was confirmed by the still clothed half erection Loki felt pressing against his body.

Stark wanted him, like he had already noticed during the days the mortal had been his prisoner, when he had felt him becoming hard against his hand while he was still refusing to speak, when the mortal himself had searched for his lips whispering desperate, broken words with too much alcohol on his breath. And maybe he had wanted him way before that, when they fought with weapons and provocations in battles that had never been deadly.

“Has anyone told you that when you're hurt, wounded and too weak to be lethal you're a lot more bearable?” the mortal commented, before arching abruptly, in the vain hope to free his hands.

Immediately, Loki tightened his grip as a warning.

“You are mine, Stark.”

“How's it possible that you don't have the slightest idea of personal space but you still can't call me by my nam-”

He interrupted the mortal's blabbering by pressing his mouth against his.

He devoured Stark's sounds of surprise and then his gasping  pants , kissing him like he wanted to steal his breath away, and a shiver of pure, electric arousal passed through his spine when he realized that the mortal had stopped fighting him and was responding to the kiss, was even moaning, in what was a half protest and a half appreciation.  _When he realized that the mortal was truly his._

He pulled away only to bite his neck, then he let his wrists go. He almost smiled feeling one hand grabbing his hair and not moving, like Stark hadn't decided yet if he wanted to keep him pressed against his neck or to try to take the god off of himself. The other hand, and this time Loki smiled for real, went to his wounded side.

_Arrogant until the end._

He answered his move by sinking his teeth next to Stark's jugular, biting so hard the mortal moaned and arched again.

“Okay, if that's your way of thanking me for my nursing you back to health again, I assure you a bottle of whisky was enough”, Stark commented, panting, as soon as he was able to talk again.

Loki laughed.

“Thanking you? I let you live.”

The grip on his side tightened, bringing a stab of pain.

“Which is the least you could do, considering where you would be now without my help. If you really want to thank me, you could at least court me in a proper way. Flowers, chocolate boxes, asking me out to dinner... Or at least letting me be on top.”

He widened his smile, showing his teeth.

“You still have not gained such an honor.”

But the honor of being his, Stark had gained; and whether it was an honor or a damnation it didn't matter.

He bit the mortal again, to stop his reply, then, not caring about the rising pain on his side, he lowered one hand to grip Stark's erection, stealing a loud moan from him, even if he was touching him through the fabric of his pants.

_His. The first thing that he truly possessed when all his other possessions had been lies._

When the challenge of an old enemy arrived to brush against his consciousness, he was so focused on the mortal under him and on his reaction that he almost didn't notice it.


	67. Chapter 65: Approaching danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really short update, only because I didn't want to let you wait anymore for it. Please, don't hate me. Next chapter will be a little longer and will arrive in a few days.  
> I send all my thanks to fabricdragon for her corrections, and thanks to you all for the comments, the kudos and the support (by the way, Lucca comics went so well I miss it already and want to return there XD).  
> Enjoy your reading^^

**Chapter 65: Approaching danger**

 

He had felt him.

The traitorous god, together with the thunders of the son of Odin. That place still had the scent of a violent fight between the two immortals and showed the unmistakable marks of it.

He laid one hand on a split trunk, sliding his fingers along the red stains on the bark and wood.

Hours must have passed, perhaps days, since he had felt such an intense energy exploding in the park. Energy too strong to belong to some pitiful Midgardians. The power still lingered there, like a signature of his prey.

He followed the cracks and the craters on the ground until he reached a deep hollow with red stains all over it. While the Chitauri followed his steps, he crouched down to touch the dry blood, collecting a small amount of it on his fingers, before letting his power study it and penetrate its own essence.

There, he found power, stronger than he expected and intertwined with an energy that shouldn't belong to the god. But a familiar power nonetheless, a power he knew in every shade and in all the fears it held.

From beneath his hood, he smiled.

“I found you, little god,” he said, whispering his challenge to the corrupted blood he had on his fingers.

His message would find him anywhere the god was, he knew it, but there was another thing he could do instead of remaining still waiting for his prey to arrive.

He sent his consciousness into the astral plan, looking for the god's essence while using his dried blood as a catalyst. The traitor had always been good at hiding his trace, but a unique power such as the one he possessed, a heritage so cursed and mad, would never be able to completely disappear, at least from the sight of one who knew how to search for it.

He glimpsed traces of the god's magic signature all around the park, then in the near street, then again on a far away field, old remnants of power, ice and anger.

Finally, his mind focused on a further place, a trace so fleeting that he almost missed it, even using the help of the blood and of his own magic.

There was a hidden building, somewhere in that mortal land. A house kept invisible by a powerful clouding spell.

He reached for it with his mind's eyes, slowly cracking its defenses one after another, until he could see it properly and find its location in the material plane, too.

He returned to his body only to realize that the god still hadn't answered his challenge, but it didn't matter. Now he had a better starting point, he had a place to attack and where he would surprise him.

He stopped half way the movement that would create a portal to the dark paths that existed among Yggradisil's branches.

Or it could be a trap. A bait to lure him in a place where the god wasn't anymore, a deception his prey was using to escape from his grasp.

He turned towards the Chitauri, looking at the faces of five of them.

“You, go check that place.” He opened the portal, but stepped aside to grant them passage. Then, he offered to one of them a globe of energy where he had collected part of his magic. “Bring this with you, it will allow you to penetrate the last defenses of the god's shelter. If you find the traitor, use the Chitauri still with me to let me know immediately.”

The Chitauri nodded, before going through the portal. He waited for them to disappear in the darkness, then, he closed it with a wave of his hand.

When he looked at it, he realized he still had the traitor's blood on his fingers. He burned it with a crackling of dark magic, looking pensively at the black flame.

Soon his chase would end.

His master would be pleased, even more so when he would discover which new power the godling had fused to his own magic. A power richer and more precious thanks to his divine energy.

He had recognized it inside his blood and like an invisible trace in the park.

Like the scarred mortal before him, Loki from Asgard was bringing with him part of the Tesseract. 

  
  


 


	68. Chapter 66: Wicked thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, still short, but this time from Tony's PoV. I want to thank fabricdragon for her help and thank you all for the comments and the kudos. I hope you'll like this chapter.

**Chapter 66: Wicked thoughts**

 

_He wasn't able to breathe anymore._

_There was the god above him, inside his mouth, between his legs, and everything he was feeling was Loki, everything he was hearing was the god's breath, everything he was perceiving was his wounded side under his own fingers, was his taste, was his black hair under his hand and brushing against his own face._

_He had dreamed of him, that night. Dreamed of a dangerous smile and of green eyes that were able to see his naked soul._

_And now, it seemed like his dream had come to life._

_He strengthened his grip on the god's side, trying to obtain a little control in a situation where he had none, but the bastard above him crossed another limit and grabbed his erection, so instead of a sharp comment he found himself moaning, pressing feverishly against his hand._

_He perceived Loki's smile without even seeing it, just a moment before the god claimed his mouth for another rough kiss. Then, just as his rationality had been overwhelmed by the pure need of the god, the weight on his body disappeared abruptly, together with the pleasure given by Loki's hand._

_He opened his eyes again, without wanting to acknowledge how foolish it had been to have closed them while he was in the god's total power, and as soon as he saw him again fully dressed and with the armor that was materializing on his body, he sat up._

“ _You're kidding, right? First you seduce me and then you leave me like that?”_

_Loki threw his head back and laughed, a hoarse sound that went straight to Tony's cock, because it contained a threatening undertone, but at the same time was more honest and amused than usual._

“ _Fear not, Stark, I told you that you are mine. I shall be back soon to show you the truth of these words.”_

_He disappeared before giving him time to even curse._

 

He felt like he still had the hungry mouth of the god on his own.

He swore soundly, throwing a punch against the stream of water: he would have liked to punch the god in the face way more.

He should have known that the little shit would have done this; turned him on, turning his protests into moans, only to pull back at the last moment, disappearing and leaving him with a near lethal case of blue balls.

Damn.

It would have been easy to pretend it all happened due to the surprise or to the weeks of sexual abstinence, as if he would have reacted in the same way to anyone. The way his body had reacted, though, left no doubts about what it wanted.

He had woken up with a morning hard on caused by the hot images that had invaded his mind during his sleep.

The problem was that the dream hadn't been about Pepper, or another one of his latest conquests, or about any other person with terrestrial origins.

He shook his head, like that was enough to reject such thoughts, like ignoring them would make them disappear and would turn off the arousal which was still present in his nerves and body like a fire.

He would have preferred being under mind control or under Loki's spell, it would be the perfect justification for what was happening to him. But no, he had recognized how desirable Loki was even before he had become his prisoner.

He put his head under the warm water, trying to relax and to silence his own thoughts.

After some more minutes of fighting against himself, he lowered his hand with a defeated sigh, reaching for the center of his arousal. A voice inside his head suggested that it would be really awkward to be found in such situation by the god, but if Loki really appeared in the shower while he was masturbating, he would attack him, so that in one way or another he would vent his frustration.

At first he found it odd to touch himself after whole months during which he hadn't felt physical pleasure at all. It was like he had just returned home after the period spent in captivity in Afghanistan, when he had had to regain familiarity with a body that didn't feel his own anymore. A body which had been cut open and modified and damaged and somehow still kept together and alive.

Back t hen, it had taken weeks for him, to feel his own touch on his skin like a natural sensation, to find the arousal like a natural thing again. Almost the same time it had taken to have a shower or a bath without risking a panic attack.

Now, however, he didn't have new wounds to get used to, the Reactor had been part of him for years, it was his own safety and biggest weapon and the only thing that had been torn into pieces had been his mind, but he had already managed to rebuild himself, somehow.

He struggled to visualize the perfect hot body of a nameless model, her hair, which would be blonde or red, not black, her full lips always ready to laugh at his jokes before closing around his cock, but instead of the arousal he expected he felt only disappointment.

Refusing the lingering thought of the god, he tried to focus only on the pleasurable sensation of his own hand stroking his erection, without thinking about anything, but Loki was still in his mind: there was his slender body that made his hand move faster, there were his leather pants, so skin tight that they didn't leave anything to imagination, there were his green eyes as bright as his magic, crazier, more human, more threatening and more mischievous than everything Tony had ever seen.

“ _Is there something you want, Stark?”_

There was the god's mouth on his, rough and demanding, that wanted to steal his breath away and make him feel like Loki owned him. There was Loki watching him when Tony woke up like he wanted to devour him, in a mixture of irritation and possessiveness, like the god himself didn't know exactly what he wanted to do with him.

There was his hand, long, elegant fingers, on his crotch, when the god was trying to force some sounds out of him while Tony still wasn't talking.

And for a moment he thought of how it would have been to have Loki's lips around his cock, busy giving him pleasure instead of grinning. The god's mouth hot and hungry, his tongue on his erection, Loki's nails leaving marks on his hips.

“ _You are mine, Stark.”_

He came with a moan that the stream of water couldn't completely silence.

The lack of smirks of derision and of the psychopathic god was his only consolation, since Loki hadn't appeared right after his orgasm to mock him and humiliate him, but that didn't erase what had happened.

With trembling legs and his nerves still singing from pleasure, he searched for the support of the wall, trying to regain his breath.

He had a problem.


	69. Chapter 67: Echos from the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New, shorter-then-ever, chapter, I'm sorry. I'm sick and this is the best I could do (of course I would get sick during the couple of days of vacation I had -_- ), but I'll try to have the next chapter ready by the beginning of the next week. Thanks as always to fabricdragon for her precious help, and thanks to every one of you, for your kudos and comments. I appreciate them a lot!

**Chapter 67: Echos from the past**

 

It only took a moment – his magic collecting around his body, bending space – and his room, the bed and the mortal weren't there anymore.

He teleported close to the interference he had perceived, careful to maintain a safe distance so that his arrival would not be noticed. In another circumstance, he would have appeared right in front of the foolish beings that dared to profane his lair, but he was still affected by the wounds he had received during the fight against the Avengers and his own weakness had convinced him to adopt a more cautious stance. Not that such fact would affect the outcome of his raid, since none of the invaders would remain alive.

He had felt them when an echo inside his own blood had whispered a far challenge to him, bringing forth the darkest memories of his own mind; a shiver that had not initially been enough to shift his attention from his prisoner, because Stark had been under him, then, willing and aroused, and that had been the most satisfying and elating sensations he could have hoped for.

Shortly afterwards, however, he had felt an attack against one of his lairs on Midgard. His defensive magic had been breached in one single moment, and the awareness of it had hit him like a punch, pushing him to pull back and call for his armor in preparation for battle, while two wide eyes were looking at him with clear disbelief.

He had savored Stark's confusion- his frustration- the proof of his desire for him, like the mortal wanted nothing more than being taken. He hadn't truly wanted to leave him, though, even if he hadn't had any other choices.

Something had disturbed the peace of his lair, managing to penetrate the clouding spells that had protected every wall, the same lair he had been in when he had sent his astral projection to investigate Thanos.

Something strong enough to overcome the defensive magic that had secured the place.

Something that would dearly pay for its actions.

He went closer, still surrounded by the invisibility spell that hid him from everyone, until he recognized some familiar figures.

Chitauri, but without their master to hold their leashes.

He reached them like he was a shadow, his thoughts focused on the urge to kill and destroy.

Those monsters had dared too much for their pathetic lives. He extinguished them all in less than a minute and the Chitauri died without a warning, without even noticing his presence.

Only when he had nothing but broken bodies around him, did he crouch to collect the shards of a black stone which still glowed faintly of dark energy. This was what had been used to overcome his own defensive spell. It was not a magic that low beings like the Chitauri could ever hope to own.

A hooded figure came to mind, a dark hand tightened around a staff, six fingers capable of digging into the living flesh in a moment of vivid, piercing pain.

The same creature that had challenged him with a whisper carried by his blood, that was capable of awakening the monster huddled beneath his skin.

 

_The Other's hand had been on his face and pain had exploded like a fire in all of his nerves, devouring his flesh._

“ _They have forgotten you, little god. You are alone and broken, an outcast that has fallen from the house of the gods.”_

_Loki had tried to pull_ _away, coughing up blood while his broken bones were creaking, because he hadn't had the time or the energy to heal them, before they were being broken again, in an agony so intense he hadn't been able to even think._

“ _And tell me: what can a monster like you live for, if not for revenge?”_

 

Loki tightened his grip on the scepter.

His wounded side still hurt. The flesh that had covered the gaping hole left by the explosion was still frail, the flesh underneath still hadn't completely healed, nor had the wounds that his fake brother had inflicted to him. However, the Other had been right in one thing, at least.

He grinned darkly, recollecting his magic to search for Thanos' most loyal slave, pushed by the urge to spill his blood.

“Loki.”

The voice calling his name froze him like the thought of the Mad Titan hadn't been able to.

He slowly turned around, meeting a so familiar reflection that something twisted inside his chest, making his throat tight.

“Mother.”


	70. Chapter 68: Bad timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to fabricdragon for her help and thanks to you all for your feedbacks!

**Chapter 68: Bad timing**

 

He had analyzed the situation during one breakfast, one cathartic dozen minutes of destruction, which had been focused on one of the still intact Twilight books, and almost one hour spent studying the components that he had been able to steal from the washing machine.

He had a problem: a dangerous god, who was the enemy of the entire planet that he was attracted to. He was empathizing with him and that was pushing him far away from the standards of the fearless heroes in white capes that were guided by the most beloved boy-scout of America.

He had always known he was more like a broken man who was seeking redemption than a hero, but he had never fraternized with an enemy, before.

The solution was easy and he was looking at all its pieces: he only had to escape before Loki's return, to drown in alcohol the memories of the god's laughter and of his horrified stare when he had looked at his own fingers turning blue, and to sleep, until Loki's green eyes would be nothing more than a fading image, forgotten in some corner of his mind, together with the surprising realization of how human and pleasant the crazy god had been to him in the last few days.

He began attaching the components together, then he ripped off two cables from the lamps in the living room, hoping to finish the job before Loki returned and realized how he was changing for the worse the interior design of his house.

It took him twenty minutes to obtain the rudimentary conductor he needed, with the help of a light bulb and the engine belonging to the washing machine.

Now that he was at the final part of his plan, however, he hesitated.

It had been the god himself who had given him the idea of how to break through the house's magical defenses: his Reactor refused Loki's magic, so it was possible that its energy interfered with the spells that blocked the door and the windows; that it could maybe even erase them. He only needed something capable of boosting the Reactor's energy, which was exactly what he had just built.

He looked down at the cables that were about to be connected to the most precious part of his body.

Experimenting on his own body, on the Reactor, while he was so far away from home and from the safety of his lab, was a risk he would have gladly avoided.

He breathed deeply before turning his Reactor until he heard a familiar click, than he stilled for a couple of seconds, without pulling it out from its socket.

In the worst case scenario, the materials he had put together would explode in his own hand, damaging the Reactor and leaving him to die alone, with a broken heart in his hand. But the worst case scenario would never become true thanks to his genius, he never failed, not even in Afghanistan, when his life was depending on a car battery and even a few drops of the water they tortured him with would be enough to kill him and to erase all the efforts Yinsen had made to keep him alive.

This time there wasn't a Nazi with some unexpected power hidden in his hand that would punish his arrogance.

He breathed in again, then he held his breath while he extracted his Reactor for a few inches, without disconnecting it from his chest.

His fingers trembled and that was just absurd, because he had risked way more than that. He had showed his Reactor to Loki – Loki, the psychopathic god that had made him sleep chained to the floor like an animal and that had been the reason the Avengers had assembled for the first time – he had been subjected to his magic, he had even woken up only to find himself trapped against the mattress, with Loki's hand on his Reactor, in a gesture that could mean both threat or possession.

However, he had to force himself to connect the cable to the Reactor and to start the washing machine engine.

Without really breathing, he watched while the blue energy followed the cable and reached the light bulb, which he had opened and modified to make it a radiation emitter. Two seconds later, he allowed himself to smile.

It was all like he had expected to be: the Reactor was still in great shape and functioned perfectly, the cables held out well and at the same time there was enough charge to keep the shrapnel away from his heart.

Without wasting any more time, he went to the nearest window, stretching the hand that was holding that improvised emitter.

After the first few moments when nothing happened, the air become suddenly heavy, giving him goosebumps. Breathing became hard and even moving took more effort than usual, like Loki's magic had become palpable and was trying to defend itself from a threat.

Tony strengthened his grip on the emitter, gritting his teeth.

_Science against magic. Let's see who wins it this time, Rudolph._

He touched the invisible barrier that blocked his escape, however now it seemed like it was giving in, while the Reactor energy covered it, giving it the resemblance of a green wall surrounded by  a blue light.

Part of him gloated in triumph. If only he had Jarvis there, and his lab, so that he would be able to analyze every tiny detail of what was happening...

He replaced his smile with a determined expression.

The sooner he escaped, the sooner he could begin building a proper anti-magic field device. With that in mind, he forced the emitter against the wall, trying to break through once and for all.

The green barrier twisted like it had become a fluid, then there was a sort of little explosion and he was flung across the room, hitting the opposite wall with such force that he lost his breath.

He blinked a couple of time, dizzy because of the impact, but the cold terror he felt at the thought of his Reactor shattering under his eyes went away as soon as he put his own chest into focus: the Reactor was fine, even the cables, the engine and the emitter were still functioning. He lifted his head.

In front of his eyes, what shattered in a thousand shards was the same green light that had pushed him away.

Immediately he ran to the window and this time, instead of the usual desolated landscape, he saw streets, skyscrapers, people walking far away and familiar buildings. He was in New York. A suburban part of the city, but New York nonetheless.

He looked around inside the house.

The other windows were still protected by the spell and the sounds from outside were muffled, like the house was still surrounded by an invisible bubble that kept it detached from reality, but he had just opened a tear in the magic defenses that the god had cast and, even if it would have been suicide to jump down from the window without his suit, now he knew he possessed the key that would allow him to escape from his prison.

He smiled.

He would never lower himself to scream for help like a defenseless princess inside a tower, but if the windows weren't a viable option for an escape, he could always try the door.

He reached it with his senses in full alert, trying to perceive the eventual return of the god, even if he doubted that Loki would simply remain hidden and silent while he destroyed his magic defenses.

This time he proceeded one inch at the time, waiting for the magic wall to give in little by little, instead of trying to break it down and risking the consequences of an explosion like had happened with the window.

It seemed to him that it lasted forever. When the spell finally broke, with the sound of shattering glass, a cold wave hit his face and clothes, but it was so weak that he wasn't even forced to step back.

A moment later, all was still and silent.

He opened the door only for a couple of inches, just what it took to take a peek outside, and his heart began hammering against his Reactor when he saw a hall with an elevator and some stairs instead of an exact copy of the room he was in. 

Despite his first impulse, he didn't escape immediately. Instead, he closed the door and took the cables away from the Reactor, which he then pushed back into its socket, hiding the hole in his chest, so that he wouldn't feel tense and vulnerable anymore.

With a sensation of triumph at his own victory, he hastily grabbed a t-shirt and a sweater, putting them on while he went to the door again.

_Freedom._

The mix of exultation and relief he felt surprised him, given how unexpectedly pleasant had been the god's company in the last few days. But the need for freedom was something instinctive and irrational that existed within his soul, like part of him had always remained trapped in a cave that smelled like sand and blood, like now he had to walk out in the open to be able to breathe properly.

Some more moments, and he would be free again.

This time he opened the door completely, ready to run towards the elevator and then outside the building, but he froze before he could take a step.

In front of him were the Chitauri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, another short chapter, I know, but next one is coming soon. Just a little while before the two of them will be riunited, but in the meanwhile I hope you enjoyed your reading^^


	71. Chapter 69: Red pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank as always my dear beta fabricdragon, for her patience and her help, and a thousand thanks to you all, for your comments and kudos! They're really what brighten these last depressing days. I hope you'll like this chapter^^
> 
> Warning: torture, not too graphic but that's still there.

**Chapter 69: Red pain**

 

He almost didn't believe his eyes while he stared at the unfocused figure that was in front of him. Her profile was flickering, he could see right through her to the Chitauri's dead bodies and the wall of his lair. But Frigga was there, with her regal dress surrounding a graceful body which only seemed frail, and a face so pale and transparent that was about to disappear at every second, with an expression which was a mix of sorrow and kindness.  _She really was there._

“I have long desired to find you, my child.”

Loki looked at her without being able to reply, and he didn't know which hurt more, her presence or the lack of resentment in her words.

He felt naked, naked and defenseless under her eyes.

Now that the Chitauri had erased his clouding spell around his lair, he could feel the far away eyes of Heimdall watching him, however the guardian of Asgard was a fleeting threat he didn't even consider while the only person in the entire universe that could mean family to him was looking at him like he truly was someone precious.

_Do you still love me, mother? Even after I almost killed your true son?_

But the words remained trapped on his lips, he wasn't able to let them out, because they were too heavy and brought a terrifying answer he was too coward to face.

“Why did you waste so much energy to appear in front of me? Why not Thor?” he asked instead.

Thor was alive, of that he was sure. Odin's wrath at the death of his only son would reach even Midgard, if the wound he had inflicted him had been lethal.

“Because you are in danger, Loki.”

He laughed, a bitter sound that burned his own throat, but it was easier to parade the monster than to pretend it wasn't there.

“I am the danger, mother. The _monster_ others must fear.”

“Stop it.”

His laughter was cut off abruptly. Frigga hadn't screamed nor had she spoken with a strict tone, but her voice, tinged with sorrow and at the same time full of a motherly love, had been enough to make him fall silent.

“I felt shadows. An old enemy seeking revenge, his power so deep and dark that is a threat to all Asgard. And he yearns for your suffering.”

Loki swallowed a clump of acrid saliva that almost blocked his throat.

“And even if it were just so? You owe me nothing. I do not belong to Asgard, not anymore.”

Frigga looked at him like his words had just slapped her. Then a fierce look brightened her eyes.

“A mother always protects her child.”

Her voice resonated with an inescapable truth and Loki wasn't able to face her eyes anymore while a smaller, more insidious monster than the one that hid beneath his skin devoured his chest. Despite having survived the freezing touch of the void, Thanos, the fake war against Midgard and every other action he had done in the last year, Frigga still made him feel as defenseless as a child with mere words. It was like he was young again, a boy looking for his place in the world, like he was again in front of Odin when Thor was being banished, and he couldn't do anything but watching, shocked at the unexpected consequences of his own plan. It was like he was again in front of his mother when she had proclaimed him king, while the man he had believed his father was still in the Odinsleep and he was feeling crushed by the responsibility and euphoric and terrified and too young and insecure to face his fate alone.

He searched for some words to negate what she had said, in vain. Then, something hit him abruptly, a perception from far away.

His magic had been shattered.

His house, the most precious lair he had on Midgard.  _Stark._

“I have to go.”

“Wait.”

The hand that grabbed his wrist wasn't real, it wasn't even concrete enough to give him an actual feel on his skin, however he felt it burning and had the urge to rest his fingers against hers. He gave a hint of the gesture until he brushed against Frigga's hand, then he left his hand on hers, basking in the illusion of touching something tangible instead of the air. Only then he lifted his eyes to meet the sad smile in his mother's face.

“You can come back home.”

“Home?” The bitter grin he had wanted to show her was more like a grimace. “To be thrown in a dungeon and left there like a forgotten relic?”

“No one would ever leave you there. But you had to be judged and you escaped before that was possible.”

“Judged by whom? By Thor? By the All-Father?”

Gods judging a monster, the same brother and father that had fooled him with the illusion of a family, and again he felt the impulse to laugh and to show his teeth like a wild beast and to destroy everything, and his time was running out because his enemies had already reached his other lair, and there was Stark, there, but he still wasn't able to leave his mother.

“Loki, trust me.”

He already did, more than he would have liked. Frigga was the only one he trusted, his only certainty that someone had truly loved him, even when he was in exile on another Reign, even while he wasn't able to hide the monster he truly was anymore.

She was the promise of comfort and salvation, when his body still carried the marks of the last fight and while the most dangerous being in the universe was hunting him with his slaves like he was prey.

But his mother would never become their prey.

He slowly withdrew his hand.

“This war is not yours, mother,” he murmured, letting the lie slide easily through his lips.

Frigga shook her head.

“It would be anyway, even if you had not lied, Loki.” She reached for him with her hand, looking for an impossible touch. “We can face this danger together. Do not refuse my help.”

 

 

 

“Oh shit! Don't tell me you're Rock of Ages' doormen.”

He only had enough time to take one step back, his body tense and ready to run, despite knowing he only had a prison behind him, when one of the Chitauri tackled him. The impact with the floor took his breath away in a hiss, but the Reactor was still intact, and for a moment Tony thanked that one second of lucidity when he had waited to put it back where it belonged before opening the door.

While he was trashing wildly in the attempt to push back the Chitauri that was holding him to the floor, he heard some heavy steps, then two not human feet stopped in front of his eyes, together with the pointy end of what seemed like a war staff. Tony struggled to turn his head until he put into focus a hooded alien with hands with six fingers and a body that seemed totally different than the Chitauri's.

“All this place oozes magic belonging to the little god, but in front of me there is only a Midgardian.”

Another attempt at freeing himself earned him a hit on his head, and for a moment the living room became a confusing blur that made him feel nauseated.

He was still able to talk, though.

“'Only' is offensive, and a total understatement if you're talking about me, since I'm the peak of my race for smartness and sex appeal.”

He managed to elbow an alien in full face and with a tug he was free again. He only managed to stand up, however, before other two Chitauri slammed him against the wall and trapped him there, while Six Fingers Hooded Monster came near.

“Where is the traitorous god?”

He was being interrogated. Interrogation, torture, pain, and his heart was already beating too fast, his Reactor hurt, but part of him was somehow still lucid enough to put the pieces together. It seemed he hadn't been the only one who realized that Loki had failed his invasion on purpose.

“Rock of Ages? He went to his favorite hairdresser, leaving me trapped here.”

The staff hit the ground with a threatening sound.

“Do not joke with me, mortal.”

“I'm not joking. Do you really think it’s likely? Me being one of his allies, and being so suicidal that I remained here, waiting for you unharmed and ready to sacrifice myself to save his perfect ass? I'm a prisoner, I almost managed to escape and you ruined everything, thank you very much.” Now that he was thinking about it, if he hadn't destroyed the house's magical defenses he probably would have never been in such a desperate situation. “So, if you don't mind, I'm going back home, since I've nothing to do with your little quarrel.”

From the darkness under the hood, Tony heard a grin.

“I do not mind, but you will,” the alien commented.

He had just finished talking when he laid his hand against Tony's head, and suddenly there was fire in his nerves. It was like the spell Loki had attacked him with a few days before, Tony felt like his guilt had become a hundred sharp blades that were piercing his flesh, it was like he was dying, but without actual ending his existence and he was trapped in a limbo where only pain existed.

He wheezed after what seemed like hours spent without being able to breathe. He didn't think, he only breathed, with his lungs burning in need and his mind trapped in a cave with a basin of freezing water and his trembling fingers tightened around a car battery.

When he returned to his reality, it seemed to him days had passed and he still hadn't stopped panting or trembling.

He would have fallen down if not for the Chitauri who were holding him upright.

“Let's try it again, shall we? Where did Loki from Asgard go?”

_Fuck you_ , Tony would have liked to respond, or maybe he would have liked to come up with a better, more colorful offense, but his brain was stuck, his thoughts were frozen in the half rage-half horror of being a helpless victim in a war that didn't belong to him. Even a simple task like breathing required all of his energies and there was blood in his mouth and his vocal cords didn't seem to work anymore.

Again he saw the monster's hand with six fingers approaching, a threat of suffering that made him struggle against the Chitauri's grip on his arms and hair, but he couldn't free himself and a moment later his nerves caught fire again, in a white hot flash of agony.

This time he wasn't even able to scream, it hurt too much, it ripped the air out of his lungs, leaving them empty and burning. The hand disappeared sooner than he expected, though, leaving him panting and trembling and without any energy or fight left. It took him a while to realize that the alien that was torturing him wasn't looking at him anymore and instead had turned around to face the entrance door.

“It seems I have no use for you anymore, mortal,” the monster commented, and Tony had barely the time to take a breath, catching sight of a golden figure through the pain that was clouding his eyes.

_You took your time_ _, Rock of Ages_ , was the comment that crossed his mind, without being put into words.

Then the monster pierced him with his weapon, right under the Reactor, and Tony's thoughts were replaced by a red agony.


	72. Chapter 70: The wrath of a god

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt too bad for the evil cliffhanger of the last chapter, so here it is the new one! All my thanks to fabricdragon, who corrected this chapter (and the next two) in record time, and thanks to you all for your feedbacks. Love you guys <3

**Chapter 70: The wrath of a god**

 

“ _Do not refuse my help.”_

_And there had been a hint of begging in the voice of a queen who should have never bowed, not for him, not for a monster who was unworthy of affection, who didn't deserve a mother. He had hesitated, allowing himself to be tempted by that unacceptable offer. He had let words form on a tongue that, for once, had been incapable of lying. He had almost said them, when he had felt them reaching his lips like some traitorous little hopes, he had savored their bittersweet taste, the humiliation of his own weakness and, at the same time, the consoling thought of returning to a lost past._

“ _I am sorry, mother,” he had finally whispered, before shifting his gaze from her and teleporting far away._

_But he had hesitated._

 

He had hesitated, maybe for a dozen seconds, maybe for a couple of minutes, his eyes focused on the offer of help coming from the only person that still meant something for him, among a race he had never truly belonged to.

And now he was too late.

The first Chitauri was simply destroyed by the wave of magic that hit the room, a dark shade of red rage and desire for vengeance that made his powers rise dangerously, while he had his eyes on the dying mortal on the floor.

The second? He tore his body apart with his bare hands, stopping his vain assault before that pathetic creature realized he had become prey. The last Chitauri were simply smashed around by his magic, leaving blue stains and fragments of muscle, flesh and skin on the walls, when he unleashed his wrath as a weapon and as a shield at the same time.

“You finally make your appearance, little god.”

The magic beneath his skin roared in a wave of pure hatred.

The Other was between him and Stark, his hands gripping the staff where Loki could see the dark red stains of the blood belonging to the Avenger.

He attacked him without even thinking, trying to smash his head with his scepter only to have his weapon blocked by the staff only inches away from his target.

“Did you forget your place, traitor?”

The Other's voice hurt his ears while a sudden blow from the staff forced him to take a step back and defend himself. He hated that hissing voice, a sound that carried the memories of days of pain and bleeding wounds; of a time when his mind- still shattered by the void- was being torn into pieces under Thanos' grinning face. It didn't bring him fear, though, not truly, not for a slave that didn't have enough pride to defy the chain that guided his every action.

“I did not forget it, not even for one moment. It will be sitting on your dead body that I shall bring my greetings to your master.”

He attacked him again, leaving two copies of himself to suffer the hit from the dark magic his opponent sent him, and he managed to tear off a chunk of his cape.

Immediately the Other reacted with a downward blow that Loki narrowly avoided, then he recalled his powers to materialize a globe of pure, black energy on his palm.

“Such arrogant words for a child so weak. You can do nothing against me.”

This time, his voice was an enraged growl and Loki burst into laughter.

“Weak?” His magic defended against the wave of dark magic that reached for him, he created a shield, and the Other's spell shattered against it without even making a crack. “I have never been.”

They had tortured him when he had already been broken, when his last defense at Odin's rejection had been an attempt to kill himself.

And now he was still wounded from the fight against the Avengers, but he wasn't as hurt as when he had arrived to Thanos' reign of darkness: his mind was intact, now, what had broken him had become a scar that helped him with rage and hatred, a source of strength to rely on, not a weakness.

He wasn't the neglected son that had been rejected by the father he had always admired; he wasn't a naïve dreamer that had Odin's acknowledgement as the goal of his own existence, not anymore.

This time he was the one who attacked, with a green dart of magic that the Other deflected with his staff; stumbling because of the strength of the hit.

He had never been weak, not even when he had thought he was, not even when his false brother had seemed to him an unreachable role model, before Thor showed himself as an arrogant, immature oaf who would have been incapable of ruling.

He threw himself at his opponent, with wrath and an unusual anxiety devouring his chest, where the satisfaction of finding himself superior to an hated enemy was faltering, replaced by the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to kill him quickly enough.

He felt his magic ready to answer to his call, sharper than it had ever been. There was the Tesseract's energy within, an advantage that made his powers even more lethal while he was exchanging hit after hit with Thanos' slave, his scepter colliding against the staff while he searched for an opening to deal a fatal blow, his fingers tingling with magic, his spells that yearned for engulfing his enemy and erasing his existence. But his mind was unfocused, his eyes couldn't avoid shifting from the Other to the mortal.

Stark's false heart was still working, Loki could see the blue light through his bloodstained clothes, but the man wasn't moving.

He strengthened his grip on the scepter until his knuckles turned white, stopping his assault to parry a blow from his enemy.

Mortals were so frail, a simple wound could be enough to end their life, and Stark had already lost so much blood... He could hear him dying one strangled breath at a time; maybe it was already too late. He would unleash his wrath upon the creature that had dared to attack his prisoner, but even if he managed to obtain a flawless victory, in the end he would find himself with a broken, cold body as his bitter spoils of war.

With a faster than usual breath because of the effort, he moved around the Other, studying him to find a weakness, to end that frustrating fight, but his opponent was guarding himself well.

He would never make it in time.

It was that thought that made his stomach twist painfully, a grip on his chest that was both rage and fear.

Not his mortal, not now that he had found something precious in such a pathetic race, now that he had discovered that there was someone who  _understood_ .

He attacked again, his scepter this time managed to pierce through the Other's defense and dug a bloody line on his thigh, before he was forced to step back to avoid his magic; it was a superficial wound, though, a simple cut that hadn't even reached the bone underneath, and he was beginning to tire.

His body wasn't responding with the usual readiness, it was still weakened from the last fight and now hurt at every movement. Even enraged as he was, he couldn't end the fight in a few minutes and then there was Stark...

Stark who had already lost too many moments of his life, who maybe wasn't even breathing anymore.

_No one shall kill what is mine!_

He concentrated deeply, calling for all the energy, the magic he had left inside his body.

And then he was in front of Thanos' slave and behind him, he was the warrior who was ready to kill and was the healer crouching down next to the mortal, his hands tearing the t-shirt apart to study the wound underneath, fingers trembling out of the effort and at the same time out of fear, looking for a sparkle of life in the mortal body at his feet with the same determination he showed while fighting against the Other, because Stark was his prisoner and no one had the right to kill him without his approval.

He used all the magic he could without leaving his other self defenseless against his enemy, then he went deeper in the mortal's core and began another fight to take Stark's fate back into his hands.


	73. Chapter 71: Bloody dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, here I am with another short chapter, but I hope you'll like it anyway^^ Time for Tony's PoV! As always I want to thank fabricdragon for her corrections and all of you for your feedbacks. Enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 71: Bloody dream**

 

Tony was drowning.

The monster wasn't there anymore, darkness surrounded him and invaded his nose and mouth, suffocating him, while the pain was the only thing he felt in the nothingness that was dragging him down.

_Only you could be killed by chance, slaughtered by an enemy you had never seen before, only because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time._

But it wasn't his fault, not this time, not like the other times.

The nothingness became soiled with sand, dim-light replaced the darkness, wheezing, broken sounds broke the silence.

Yinsen stood up, oozing blood. He passed one hand on his chest like he wanted to clean his tattered clothes, dripping at every step, while the holes left by the bullets became abyss. His face, when he turned to face Tony, showed only contempt.

“I didn't save you so that you could waste my sacrifice in such a way.”

_I'm sorry._

He tried to speak, but there was blood in his lungs and inside his mouth, dense, burning blood that was a lot different than the freezing water he had been tortured with. The pain was unbearable, overwhelming, it was erasing his thoughts while Yinsen's blaming eyes pierced him deeper than the blade of that monster had done.

Tony wanted only to close his eyes and disappear, but now another perception had interfered in his search for oblivion.

Something was shaking him, rough and insistent.

_I'm sorry, I won't do it again._

“Stark.”

_Only, please, let me sleep._

Yinsen was shaking him, hooked fingers digging into his flesh, widening the hole oozing blood on his stomach, like he wanted to steal away his internal organs.

“Stark!”

He slowly opened his eyes and Yinsen's unfocused figure disappeared, replaced by Loki.

By  _one_ Loki, because, if he had to believe to his eyes, apart from the god crouching above him there was his copy busy fighting against the bastard that had almost killed him.

“Do not dare to die, you stupid mortal.”

Why didn't Loki let him go?

He barely managed to make a grimace, instead of the ironical smile he had wanted to send him, but if only he had been able to speak, he would have told the god that everything was his fault.

Instead, he kept his eyes on Loki's until he could truly put his face into focus, recognizing his wrinkled forehead, his pale, hollowed face, his mouth reduced to a thin, pained line, while inside himself something was slowly settling.

“Kudos for your allies, Rudolph, they're really nice people,” he managed to finally murmur, with a drowsy voice that sounded strange to his own ears.

But the pain was slowly receding, second after second, the fire in his nerves was becoming an a lot more bearable little flame, his flesh was healing, his muscles and internal organs were becoming whole again.

Loki hardened his stare.

“Think of breathing instead of running your mouth.”

The wrath on his face was so deep that Tony felt almost threatened by it. It seemed absurd to him that, with that expression, the god was actually trying to save him instead of giving him the fatal blow.

Despite everything, he obeyed and closed his mouth, more because he was too weak to do otherwise, than to prove he was right. Instead, he focused on taking a slow, regular breathing rhythm, using the same method he adopted when he was fighting a panic attack.

Now that he could see around with more clarity, he watched the other Loki battling the bastard alien, exchanging hit after hit without pause or a winner.

All around them, there were the dismembered bodies of the Chitauri, but the monster with the staff was still almost unharmed and Loki seemed to have an hard time fighting against him.

He watched the fight without doing anything else, because he was still too weak to think and all he could see were confused flash of the battle that didn't even reached his mind, and part of him was still dying.

Then he heard a hiss, both from where the two warriors were fighting and from above him, and he realized that Loki had been wounded. His scepter had fallen down and the monster was fast enough to kick it away.

“You have been a fool to waste your energy for that Midgardian. Your arrogance is your downfall, little god.”

Someone burst into laughter, and it took Tony some moments to realize that Loki had been the one who laughed, while the staff of his enemy was sticking out his shoulder.

“I fear you miscalculated,” the god commented, closing his hand on the monster's throat.

The cape was thrown back, revealing an alien face which was different from the Chitauri's but possessed the same ugliness, then his whole body was surrounded by a green flame and the monster began screaming.

While Loki's magic was consuming his opponent, Tony felt the hand on his stomach faltering, the Loki who was healing him lost consistency and almost disappeared, before returning a tangible presence.

Tony's wound finished closing exactly when the further god let the alien's body fall to the floor, watching his remains before extracting the staff from his own flesh with a pained hiss.

Then the Loki next to Tony disappeared for real and the wounded god stepped closer to him, the wrath still palpable on his face and as deep as a scar.

He was covered in blood, blood belonging to him and to his enemies, and when he watched him coming closer while healing his wounded shoulder, Tony felt his stomach twist, fighting against several different emotions, knowing what the god could do to him, what he had already done and what had been about to do only a few hours before.

With a huge effort, he lifted one trembling hand to touch his wound. There wasn't a hole in his stomach anymore, he didn't even feel actual pain. Then, his fingers slid towards the Reactor and stopped there, touching the intact, smooth surface of his fake heart.

“You saved me,” he commented, with an incredulity so intense that had replaced any other emotions, because Loki had weakened himself to heal him while he was busy fighting for his own life, he had maybe risked everything to not let him die.

The god stopped his attempt to sitting up with one hand, crouching over him like his copy had done.

“Your life belongs to me,” Loki hissed, before lowering to claim his mouth.


	74. Chapter 72: Belonging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little sick and I have some times on my hands, plus I'm bored, so here it is the new update, sooner than usual. Even if it's a short chapter, I hope you'll appreciate it anyway.  
> Thanks a lot to fabricdragon for her corrections and help, and thanks to you all for your feedbacks. Having so many comments for the last chapter was a wonderful surprise!
> 
> A little **warning** : The content of this chapter may be considered as a light dub-con.

**Chapter 72: Belonging**

 

Loki was upon him, his impatient hands undressing him roughly, and Tony hadn't even realized he had started kissing him back.

He let out a moan when the god's fingers slid under his pants to rip them off, without any hesitations or asking for permission, because, by now, neither of them was capable of stopping to retrieve the necessary lucidity and analyze the situation.

Tony didn't think he would  _ever_ return to being lucid or rational, it was simply too much: the panting breath from the god that was burning his lips, Loki's teeth biting his jaw, sliding down where his heart was beating faster and more frantic than ever, the feel of a naked body pressed against his own, as soon as a golden light made armor and clothes disappear, replacing them with the perfect, lethal body he had already had the occasion to admire during that bath.

And he didn't care he was about to have sex with an enemy, because he was still alive, his body was moving, his blood was flowing, his lungs were being filled with oxygen and his mind hadn't turned off yet, and he wanted to  _feel_ with every cell of his body after being so close to annihilation – and maybe Loki wasn't even an enemy, not anymore, not for him.

He bared his neck for the god's bite, digging his nails in his back, yearning for more, for satisfying the fire under his skin that Loki's touch and the simple fact that he was still alive to feel it had awoken.

The god bit his neck again, sinking his teeth until he almost drew blood, before pulling back and lifting his head to stare at him, his eyes two green cracks where the desire for him was as vivid as a bleeding wound.

For a moment, Tony wasn't able to breathe anymore, entranced by those eyes that made his stomach clench in a too pleasant way, a triumph that wasn't only the narcissist satisfaction of having made even a god fallen for him.

Then, the hand that had outlined his crotch, only brushing against his half hard cock, went between his buttocks to press one finger against what had always remained untouched.

“He... hey,” Tony tried to protest, because that was a totally unauthorized intrusion, something which was even less planned than the sex.

He made an attempt to pull back, but Loki's touch was simply too pleasant, too tempting to refuse it, and his mouth was hungry for him and all of his nerves were singing in arousal and desire.

“Be silent, Stark,” the god growled, muffling Tony's reply with a kiss that stole his breath away.

The finger went deeper inside him, reaching for a knot of nerves that sent a wave of pure, burning pleasure along his spine, and Tony arched against Loki's body, while the kiss became messy and rougher, with teeth digging into his lips and fingers mapping every inch of his chest and belly, like the god wanted to make sure to not meet any more wounds.

He almost didn't notice when the fingers became two, already lubricated by something that let them slide into him without any pain, giving him only a not really unpleasant sensation of being full. He only knew that he needed Loki and couldn't stop kissing him and touching, stroking caressing his body with his fingers, from the shoulders, to the back, to the slender hips, a body that had kept him company in his fantasy during the shower and that now was at his fingertips, perfect only like a god could be, even after a deadly battle.

There was blood on him, on both of them; blood and sweat, but he didn't care, one of his hands had already gone to outline the god's buttocks, stroking the skin before digging his nails into it to make a hiss escape from Loki's lips, a sound that made him smile against his throat.

He felt a wave of pure arousal when he sucked at the skin between Loki's neck and shoulder, and he felt the god's breathing stopping abruptly in what could be a muffled moan, so he did it again and then a third time, while pressing down against his fingers to feel that unexpected shiver of pleasure again, savoring the sounds that he forced out of the god, grasping him tightly like Loki was the only handhold that allowed him to live without losing himself among the sensations that were stunning him.

He was still biting the god, trying to leave a mark on a body which didn't even show the scars of the suffered wounds, when the fingers that were tormenting him in such sweet and tempting way disappeared.

For a moment he was empty, unbearably empty, and then Loki thrust into him.

He arched abruptly with a cry, overwhelmed by a burning sensation that was half pain and half pleasure, something too intense and deep to bear it without screaming, and he was alive and his nerves were feeling, his mind was in overload, too many sensations, but he was still able to think, he was awake, ready to react to the tiniest stimulus like a bare nerve, and there was air inside his lungs, too little of it, but he was alive.

Alive thanks to an enemy, if he still considered Loki to be one.

He blinked, staring at the god like it was the first time he was seeing him, like he had only just realized who was above him.

_He was alive._

And Loki had saved him, had beat the aliens that had tortured and almost killed him to a pulp,  _literally_ beat them to a pulp, and now was moving on him with his green eyes fixated on Tony's own with such intensity that he shivered, because this enemy was looking at him like he were someone to protect, someone worthy, someone precious.

No one had ever looked at him that way apart from Pepper.

Then the god's hand went lower to grab his erection and it began stroking it in time with his thrusts, giving him the touch he desperately needed, replacing the fantasy that had accompanied his moments in the shower that morning, tearing a whine out of his lips which was almost a sob.

_And he was alive_ , his nerves sang out of pure pleasure, bringing him higher and higher, and he was trembling and panting, while his hips moved at Loki's rhythm, following his thrusts, taking him deeper inside himself, faster, rougher, until a hot wave of pleasure exploded inside his groin and he came with a hoarse cry that resonated of his need to prove the world his existence.

He barely felt when Loki found his orgasm too, soon after, with the last, deep thrusts.

The unpleasant feeling of something wet in his ass, when the god pulled back, made him form a grimace, but he was too tired and satisfied to truly protest or even to analyze what had happened.

He was lying on the floor of a living-room where a massacre had taken place and aliens' remains were scattered all around him, but for now he was good.

Everything was silent: his guilt, Yinsen and Pepper's voices, his teammates'. His own mind.

Covering his Reactor with his palm, he remained motionless, still panting and with the body heavy because of the pleasure he had felt, while finding himself in the only pair of eyes where he could accept his reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, with finally the smut scene! After so much time and so many chapters, I really hope it wasn't an anticlimatic, disappointing update, so please, let me know what you thought about it. If you are wondering, I can already tell you that it won't be the only one smut part in the story.  
> Also, in the following days I'll be quite busy, but I'll try to update again before the end of the year. Have a nice day, I wish a merry, wonderful Christmas to the ones who celebrate it and a great week for everyone!


	75. Chapter 73: Holding on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to fabricdragon for her help and for all your comments and kudos! I'm happy the smut scene didn't disappoint you. Now the focus shifts to Pepper and the other Avengers, but get ready for a long Loki and Tony-centric chapter next week. For now, enjoy your reading and have a wonderful New Year's Eve and a new year full of happiness and satisfaction!

**Chapter 73: Holding on**

 

She woke up with the feeling she had slept in a bed of stone. Her back hurt everywhere, she wasn't feeling her legs anymore and a stab on her neck gave her the knowledge that moving her head would be a difficult task for that day. There was a warm sensation on her thighs, though, a weight she wasn't used to, and when she opened her eyes she found herself looking at Bruce's relaxed face and his tousled hair.

He was still asleep, still tired, given his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, but his peaceful expression and his regular breathing reassured her on the fact he wasn't having nightmares.

A rustle on her right made her lift her gaze, and she met a familiar figure.

“You know? If the one sleeping on your legs wasn't a meek doctor who's capable of turning into a green, smashing monster that destroys the city and if you weren't the only person I know who's able to make Tony shut up, I could say you two are almost cute.”

Pepper couldn't suppress a smile. For the relief of waking up without too much damages or victims, or for that ironical greeting, she didn't know, but somehow those words made her chest a little less heavy.

She hadn't truly made everything alright, she didn't have all the answers or the solution to every problem, but she wasn't alone. Somehow, they were going to make it.

“Hi, Clint.”

He smiled too.

“I didn't want to bother you, but Jarvis told me you were down here with Bruce and well, I thought to come take a look.” He looked around himself, his gaze wandering from the bent and cracked walls to the floor with the imprint of two huge fists, to the destroyed bed, before returning to her, eyes surprised and confused, like he didn't understand how she could be unharmed in the center of such distraction. “You okay?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I'm okay.”

The weight on her legs shifted, then Bruce opened his eyes with a pant and the relaxed body against hers tensed abruptly.

“Pepper...?”

He was already breathing too fast, like the nightmares that hadn't reached him during his sleep were attacking him now.

“Welcome back to us.”

Immediately Bruce pulled away and stood up, stumbling, like touching her skin had burnt him.

Pepper followed him, ready to help.

“Take it easy,” she murmured, but it was clear he wasn't listening to her.

He was too busy fighting against panic, tightening his grip on the blanket that was covering his naked body with such strength that his knuckles turned white, while his eyes darted around. His hands were trembling, his breathing was escalating quickly and all about him showed that he was still struggling to maintain some sort of lucidity.

“What happened?”

Pepper made an attempt to smile.

“It seems like we both needed some sleep.”

From the entrance of the containment room, Clint took a couple of careful steps forward, showing his empty hands.

“Glad to see you still in one piece, Doc.”

Bruce took a deep breath, then another, and finally his tired face showed a glimpse of a smile.

“Glad to see you too.”

There weren't greenish shades on his skin, but the presence of the Hulk was something tangible in the destroyed room and the atmosphere was too tense, with all the exhaustion, the uncertainty of their situation, the defeat they had endured. Before someone thought of something to say or to do, Dum-E made his entrance with a triumphant chirp, reaching Bruce.

“Thanks,” he murmured, while taking the glasses the AI had been so thoughtful to have bring him. He put them on, relaxing his shoulders, while Pepper relaxed the same. It was like Dum-E's arrival had made a great part of tension disappear.

“How are you feeling?”

Bruce widened his smile a little bit, blinking to adjust his eyesight to the glasses.

“Drained and with a horrible taste left in my mouth. But better than I ever hope I could be.” His smile suddenly froze, while his eyes darted around, frightened and full of fear. “The others?”

“All in one piece.” Pepper had a moment of hesitation, but she had to know. “Do you remember anything?”

Bruce's eyes shifted from her face to the wall.

“I remember Loki, we that were losing. Then S.H.I.E.L.D.'s medical squad arriving and some flash of the hospital. Then everything is confused.”

He swallowed with difficulty, before looking at her again.

“I thought he would have killed you,” he whispered, with a hoarse voice that sounded like he had screamed too much inside his head. “That I would have killed you.”

Pepper touched his arm, grabbed it, actually, because Bruce seemed like he was slipping away, somewhere inside his mind, with guilt and remorse whose torment he didn't deserve, and she wanted to give him something tangible to hold onto.

“But it didn't happen. The Other Guy is not bad, once he stops smashing things. You know,” she said, without holding back a smile. “We made a pact.”

His answer was a disbelieving stare.

“A pact?”

Pepper nodded.

“He'll help me looking for Tony.”

Bruce shook his head, but between the fear and the shock that were fighting for dominating his expression, there was also a big relief which softened the tight line of his lips.

“I'm beginning to think you're as crazy as Tony.”

“After all, I'm one of his employees, am I not?”

There was sigh and the atmosphere became even lighter.

“What have I missed?”

“We are all alive.” Clint hazard a pat on his shoulder. “More or less battered, but still whole. Thanks to you.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“Not the time to play modesty, Doc. Steve wouldn't have made it without your helpt and Thor... Well, let's say that Fury would have found himself with a divine corpse on his hands.”

Pepper felt her chest tightening, both because of the heartfelt voice Clint had used and the stares the two Avengers were exchanging. They could not be actual friends, or trust each other entirely, but they were teammates, which was way deeper than spending some times together. It was clear they felt the same sense of belonging and for her, that was something unknown, because she could support them, she could be their friend and give them help when she could, but she had never truly fought by their side, in an actual battlefield. She had never risked her life together with them.

For a moment she almost felt left out. Then, Bruce's attention shifted back towards her, and it carried so much guilt that it was painful only to look at it.

“We weren't able to capture Loki or to discover some information about Tony's whereabouts. I'm sorry.”

Pepper shook her head.

“What matters is that you are all alive and safe.”

“Yes, but...”

“No one could have done anything, Bruce,” Clint interrupted him. “Especially now that the son of a bitch has gotten a power up.” He stopped abruptly, turning around to gave Pepper a sheepish look. “It seems that Loki put his hands on a Tesseract shard.”

She nodded.

“Yes, Jarvis told me.”

A smile appeared behind the archer's guilty expression.

“Right. I forgot you know everything that happens.”

“Not everything.” The know in her throat threatened to break her voice. Usually, she ignored it, but after the last long hours of tension and adrenalin and exhaustion, it was simply too much to control. She lowered her gaze for a moment, trying to make the wetness at the edge of her eyes disappear before returning to face the two Avengers, because she couldn't have a breakdown now.

Clint brushes her shoulder, a clumsy attempt to comfort her, while Bruce massaged his temples.

“Hey, Pepper. Tony is alive, you know that, right?”

She knew, she could feel it, like she had felt it during the months he had spent as a prisoner in Afghanistan, but she didn't want to hear empty words as a consolation. She needed to hear something stronger.

“How can you be so sure?”

“The bastard was furious, he attacked us because someone had annoyed him to death. Do you know someone who could per chance make an already mad god even madder and more hysterical?”

Pepper felt her heart jumping to her throat and had to fight against the tears, but she smiled anyway, Her gaze ran towards the other Avenger, looking for some sort of confirmation.

“Bruce?”

He nodded.

“I'm prone to believe it too. Despite being and absurd idea, given his status as Loki's prisoner, Tony is somehow safe and sound.”


	76. Chapter 74: Three days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Bruce is sure that Tony's safe and sound, but is it true? Here it is the after-sex part with Loki and Tony, from Tony's PoV. I hope you'll like it! Thanks as always to my beta fabricdragon for her help, and thanks to all of you for the reviews and the kudos!

**Chapter 74: Three days**

 

The silence was so deep that falling asleep, pretending that nothing had happened and shutting off his brain for a few hours until he would be ready to accept the last events seemed the most sensible course of action. He had almost died; in a short time his body had experienced too much pain, fear and pleasure and now he was exhausted, with his nerves still overwhelmed and oversensitive, and some sleep was as tempting as a shower followed shortly by a glass of scotch. But there was Loki, who was lying at his side, his green eyes still focused on him.

In his too intense gaze, Tony kept finding that surprising, possessive glimpse, together with a rage that was still making his stomach clench and his body burn in a not too unpleasant way, like he could feel it like a burning flame on his skin. Behind the derision, the usual threats and the show of power from the capricious god, the desire Loki felt towards him stood out like blood in the snow. Loki wanted him and at the same time he seemed furious at having realized it, like he didn't know how to react to the absurd knowledge of the bond that had been established with an enemy.

_That makes two of us, Reindeer Games._

He turned on his side, so that he could look at him from a better angle, shifting his attention from Loki's face to his body.

His shoulder, under the dried blood, seemed better than when he had been pierced from side to side by the staff, but the wound was still there, giving Tony the unpleasant sensation that the god was more hurt than he allowed himself to show. Even his stillness was unusual, especially because he hadn't even made an attempt to rebuild the house's magical defense.

Tony's eyes went to the door. During the fight it had been closed, maybe by that alien, maybe by some hit, and the wood was bent and damaged. He was sure there wa sn't any magic preventing him from escaping, given how the window where he had broken the spell was still showing the New York's sky.

A weakened Loki could be too slow to react. However, even if he found the strength to stand up quickly and run towards the door without the god stopping him, the thought of leaving him just after sex made him feel uncomfortable.

His gaze went lower, to reassure himself that Loki's side was still whole and healed, then he met his eyes again.

“You bled on me, you know?” he finally said, finding the silence unbearable.

The god arched one eyebrow, the wrath in his eyes being slowly replaced by a glimpse of irony that almost made him smile.

“That was mutual.”

“It happens, when a psycho-alien drives a blade through your stomach.”

For a moment, Loki couldn't avoid looking at his body in the exact point where he had been wounded, with a hint of concern he wasn't completely able to hide, and Tony felt again that warm feeling in his chest, mixed with a sweet hint of triumph.

“Worry not, Maleficent, you'll always be my favorite psychopath”, he added, his voice light and teasing.

The god's expression became that exasperated mask that made him creepily similar to Pepper.

“Do you really want so bad to have your vocal cords removed, Stark?”

“No, you like hearing me talk too much or you would never have tried so hard to make me talk again, when I didn't want to.”

He lowered his eyes, quite shocked by his own revelation. He hadn't truly realized until he had said it, but Loki had really help ed him rebuild himself since the beginning of his captivity. He had already noticed the god's stubbornness regarding giving him back his voice, a behavior born out of the desire to torment him more, however only now he understood how much of that had helped him.

The god made a face.

“It is something I am beginning to regret.” He sat up, his lips a tight line and his face paler than usual. When Tony looked at his shoulder, he noticed a stream of red blood flowing down from the wound and covering the blue stains left by the Chitauri.

He forced himself to sit up too, muffling a pained moan when he felt a stab on his ass. It was a new kind of pain, totally different from which he was used too, and he tried to ignore it together with the awareness it carried. He would think about it later, when the idea would be more acceptable and when the god that had taken the last virginity he had wouldn't be at risk of dying from blood loss.

“You still in one piece?”

Loki showed him his teeth, in a smile which was more a threat.

“ _I_ am not a weak mortal.”

But when he touched his wounded shoulder, the green light of his magic irradiating from his fingers to the wound, his hand trembled and the skin took some long, exhausting minutes to return unharmed.

At least, his side was still intact, with no traces of the horrifying wound that had almost killed him a few days before, but when Loki lowered his arm and remained still, deeply breathing with his eyes closed, it was clear how tired he was.

So, Tony had no captor who could hold him back, if he wanted to make a run for the door, and no magic powers to clean the living room from the blueish blood and the slaughtered corpses that were on the floor, on the walls and on the furniture.

He took a look around, like only now he really realized he was in the middle of carnage. He had been  _fucked_ in the middle of carnage, which was like top of list of ‘unhealthiest places he had had sex.’

He passed one hand against his eyes, trying to silence the ironic voice that was echoing inside his head. It would be too easy to ignore the unpleasant truths he didn't want to face.

He sighed, then he opened his eyes again on Loki.

“I think you owe me some explanations.” The green of the god met his face with a resentful stare, but Tony ignored it. “I guess that wasn't Thanos, was it?”

“I _owe_ you something?” Loki laughed, returning abruptly the psychopathic god that loved making his enemies kneel at his feet. “Remember your place, _mortal_.”

If that was how he wanted to play it, resuming the role of villain and Avenger, he could forget about it. Tony stared at him seriously, with neither fear nor irritation.

“You violated my mind, Rock of Ages, and I found myself being used as a stress relief by your sadistic ex-allies. You _owe_ me.”

Several emotions passed on the god's face: disdain, irritation, like Tony expected, then a tension that usually anticipated a rage fit, a threat which wasn't expressed by words and because of that was even more tangible. But then, on his face, only a deep exhaustion remained and Tony felt an unexpected pang beneath his Reactor.

It seemed like Loki had surrendered, in that exact moment, to him.

“No, he was not. Only his most faithful servant.”

Tony stared at him without talking for more than a minute, trying to put order in his thoughts. While he was dying, with the god fighting to keep him alive, he had heard the monster provoking him, a few sharp words pronounced with derision. Adding it to the suicide attempt Thor had involuntary told him about, he could totally imagine how ugly it had been, for the god: Loki, still broken and traumatized by the truth of his own origins, having to face an alien tyrant, a being so terrifying that had scared into silence a god who had been able to joke even after being smashed around by the Hulk.

“And was he looking for you to take you back to the big meanie you stumbled upon after your stroll in space?”

“Thanos does not forgive who fails. Even less does he forgive who ruins his plan.”

“I'll take that for a yes. But since you eliminated the six fingered bitch, you should be safe, right?”

But no, of course it wouldn't be so easy.

“Thanos yearns for revenge. And yearns for the destruction of Asgard.”

Something in the god's voice and eyes made Tony shiver.

“But not only Asgard.”

Not that he had something against Thor's people – well, something he did have, at least against the divine king who thought that traumatizing a child belonging to an enemy race and raising him to be a psychopathic diva with some  _tiny_ emotional issues and the inclination towards the melodrama was a good idea – but he would be reassured if he only had to be a spectator in a war that didn't belong to his planet.

“No, Stark. Midgard will be his first target.”

“Why?”

Loki's smile was so devoid of happiness that his stomach twisted in a knot of anxiety.

“You dared to defy him and emerged victorious. I guess he considers you worthy of being destroyed.”

Tony felt the sudden urge to call for his suit.

“I don't know if I’m feeling guilty for having called you a psychopath or finding it even creepier that you understand that other psychopath so well.”

He didn't wait for an answer, maybe because he didn't want to hear one. Instead, he stood up and went to the bedroom. When he returned to the living room, several minutes later, he was dressed with clean pants and t-shirt, and summarily clean, while Loki seemed like he had just managed to stand. Tony looked at him for one moment, before making the first steps towards the door.

“Where do you think you are going?”

He turned around to look at the god. Loki was still naked, with blueish and red blood everywhere on his body, and was releasing hostile vibes as clear as an enraged scream; however he had never been as less threatened as now.

“To warn Fury and the others that we have to prepare for a war.” He gave the god a shit eating grin, watching him coming closer without moving. “I'll say it's time to officially forge an alliance.”

Loki's hostility increased even more.

“Alliance?”

“We have a crazy, much too powerful alien who wants to kill you and my entire planet, and you like me, so we can change our relationship from enemy to allies with benefits.”

“Do not misunderstand, Stark. The fact that you are mine does not grant you any say in your situation.”

On any other occasions, the smile Loki gave him would have given him the chills, but he remembered too well the fear and the concern the god had showed him while trying to save his life.

He would never hurt him.

“Seriously, Rock of Ages? You got your shoulder pierced to save my life and then you still pretend you're an evil villain and don't want to admit that you're crazy for me?”

The god's hand grabbed his throat in the blink of an eye, lifting him until his feet could only brush against the floor.

Okay, he would never hurt him  _too bad_ .

He grabbed Loki's wrist, repressing the urge to knee him in the groin and see if divine balls, on the contrary of the mortal ones, were strike proof. Instead, he tried to free himself without hitting him, muttering an offense that sounded like a muffled, unintelligible sound, before Loki decided to give him back his ability to breath and let him go.

“Be careful to what you say, mortal. For me it is enough to have you whole, not unharmed.”

“Say what you want, I don't give a shit,” he burst out. His throat hurt and he massaged it in a gesture that had become too usual. “I am fucking tired of being a prisoner. Now I want to shower, eat something, sleep a whole night and then return home.” Where he had another, terrifying situation to face, but he would think later about it. “But we can be allies. If it's true that this Thanos wants to destroy the Earth, we have a common enemy, and you sure need me and the Avengers as allies, more than keeping me here as an irresistible boy-toy.”

This time the god closed his hand into fist and a crash resounded in the room. For a moment, Tony felt with the utmost certainty that he had a heart made out flesh and blood, beneath the Reactor, since he felt it jumping to his throat. He managed to hide how much the hit had scared him, though, showing startle with his only reaction and forcing soon after to relax, because the god hadn't hit him, but the door, breaking through the wood next to his head.

He took a deep breath, staring at Loki's green eyes, where a hint of madness was ready to emerge like a wound. Loki was still naked, covered in blood, with his muscles tense, similar to a beast ready to attack and kill.

He didn't move at all when the god pulled his arm back, leaving a hole where his fist had hit the door, and only then he lifted his hands in half a placating gesture, half surrender.

“All right, we're both stressed out and covered in strange body fluids I can't wait to wash away. That not counting the corpses scattered around your living room. How much time do we have before this alien tyrant arrives? Days? Weeks? Months?”

Loki half-closed his eyes, looking still hostile, but less murderous and crazy.

“A few months... I think.”

He didn't seem out of control anymore, so Tony truly relaxed and lowered his arms, crossing them over his chest.

“Good, then it's not too urgent. I suggest one or two days of truce, and then we talk about it again. What do you think?”

“What do you mean by truce?”

“That we focus on regaining our strength, we clean the living room from the grim decorations you have created and -I really can't believe I'm the one saying this- we allow ourselves some healthy meals and a few hours of sleep. All without me trying to sneak away as soon as you're distracted and without you trying to intimidate, kill or throttle me.”

Loki hardened his expression while his gaze shifted from him to the door to the window.

“Three days,” he finally said.

_Three days to return_ _to completely functional, or at least functional enough to be able to keep me here without trouble? You really exhausted yourself while killing that alien and healing me, Morticia._

But they could both play that game. The emitter was in the bedroom, still intact. He had hidden it inside a pair of pants under the shapeless heap of his clothes.

“Three days, then.”


	77. Chapter 75: Conviction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a huge thank to fabridragon for her help and to you all for your feedbacks.  
> If someone is interested, I'm publishing a ten chapter BDSM!AU, always with the Loki/Tony pairing, but I'll try to update this story at least once a week anyway. The ending is approaching and I hope you'll like it.  
> Enjoy your reading^^

**Chapter 75: Conviction**

 

“Mister Odinson, is everything all right?”

Thor barely heard the question of Stark's servant, lost as he was in his own thoughts, while his eyes were focused on the ceiling, following images that existed only in his mind.

“Yes, Jarvis.”

He had taken a while to accept the presence of that incorporeal voice without considering it the consequence of some kind of magic, but now he was so used to hearing it, and hearing it called by name, that even as distracted as he was he didn't have any difficult in recognizing it.

“Does your wound hurt? There are some painkillers on the bedside table, but I can call a doctor, or Miss Potts, if you need them.”

Thor turned his gaze to his right. There was a glass half full of water where Jarvis had told him to look. Next to it, he could see two white little things. He had been staying on Midgard long enough to recognize them as pills, the remedies that mortals used instead of the unguents and bitter potions he could find in Asgard.

“No. I prefer staying alone.” He reached for the glass and had to tighten his lips to muffle a whimper. He didn't give any attentions to the two white pills; he only drank the water and then returned laying on the bed, waiting for the pain in his belly to subside. “How are my teammates?”

“Captain Rogers isn't in danger anymore and he's sleeping, as is Miss Romanoff. Doctor Banner had a rough awakening, but in the end he managed to regain his control and now he's having a shower, while Miss Potts and Mister Barton are in the containment room, both safe and sound.”

“Thank you.”

He passed one hand over his face, feeling a bone-deep exhaustion inside every cell of his body. Something that wouldn't go away after some rest. It was the weight of a defeat, a bitter taste that wasn't new to him, but in the last few years of his life it was tormenting him, together with the fear he would never get rid of it.

He had failed.

Like that day of rain and rage and tears when Mjolnir had refused him, he had failed.

_Did you really want to kill me, brother?_

His flesh, muscles, even internal organs under the pierced skin were healing, slowly but steadily, and it already didn't hurt too much if he moved.

He covered his eyes, catching glimpses of the ceiling and of a lost childhood through his fingers.

_Is there no other solutions but blood? My death or yours?_

After what he had promise d his mother, after he had sworn to himself that he would atone and right his own wrongs and forgive Loki's when he had discovered his lost brother had come back, to reject the possibility of a reconciliation was almost as if he killed Loki himself.

It would be almost as if his brother had never truly come back and Loki was now only a stranger with his appearance, a dark, distorted reflection of a lost family, that was prey to madness and despair and rage, too lost for him to save.

The words of the scarred mortal had never stopped echoing in his mind, but now it seemed like they had a life of their own, echoing in the silent room.

_Do you really wish to face alone an enemy so dangerous that even our father fears him?_

Part of him wanted to reach for Loki, to stand at his side to protect him against a threat that could destroy the universe whole. But the eyes where he had desperately looked for his brother had given him back only pain and anger.

His fingers closed into a fist and he moved his hand from his face to punch the mattress.

_This time too, mine was all the fault._

Because he had hesitated: the grip of his fingers around Mjolnir's handle hadn't been tight enough, not like they had always been in a fight against an unknown enemy, he hadn't really aimed to kill, not even when his trained eyes had found an opening. He had been incapable of renouncing the hope of a new beginning, reaching for the ghost of a beloved brother, because he had realized how important Loki was only after he had lost him.

And now his teammates were gravely wounded, Tony Stark was still held captive somewhere and all the blood that had been shed, the suffering, the pain, it all weighed on his shoulder.

If one of them had died, adding his name to the list of his failures...

Even if his heart was bleeding only thinking about it, he could never allow himself to make the same unforgivable mistake again.

He closed his eyes, fighting against the knot in his throat that his resolution had created.

_Forgive me, mother._

 

 

 

Pepper was still exhausted, despite being awake only for a few minutes.

She looked around, taking mental note of the damages the containment room had suffered – expenses and repairs she would have to take care of, sooner or later – without truly feeling the strength to face another day when part of her only wanted to close herself in her room, curling up on her bed and allow herself to cry in solitude, but she didn't have a choice.

At least it seemed that the situation was still under her control.

Bruce had accepted her suggestion to go take a relaxing shower and a brief conversation with Jarvis had reassured her about Steve and Thor, who were slowly healing, and about Natasha, who was still asleep.

Now there were only Clint and her, in a silence that was becoming too deep.

“What do you think about taking a coffee?”

The archer smiled.

“Sounds like a great idea.”

A dozen minutes later, they were sitting in the kitchen of the common area, their fingers tightened around a steaming cup of coffee and a pleasurable illusion of normality lulling them in the first moment of peace they had since the fight against Loki.

“So, how deep is the shit we're in, with Fury and the rest of the world?” Clint started, after the first sips.

Pepper finished her coffee with a sound of appreciation that made her feel too similar to Tony.

“Less than you think. Fury and I agreed to a truce for a few hours and I doubt we'll have to worry about an attack, at least while Thor and Steve are still so wounded.”

Clint nodded, but as soon as he finished his coffee he searched for her eyes and there wasn't a smile in his face, this time.

“Okay, let's be clear. I want to trust you and more than that I want Nat to trust you. We need her. But if you don't tell me what you have on Fury that allows you to keep him in check, this alliance can't work.”

Pepper remained silent for the time of two breaths, looking at her empty cup like she hoped it could give her the right answer.

“I didn't want to keep it to you, but I needed an advantage over Fury,” she finally murmured.

“And what's that advantage?”

To say it would mean to lose it. She sighed, but if she were in Clint's shoes she would never accept remaining clueless and there were other things, less important but still useful details, that she could use as blackmail material.

In the end, she simply wasn't fit to be a spy.

“It's Phil.”

The silence that followed her answer was so deep that her head became filled with the too fast beating of her own heart. Clint opened his mouth, and then he closed it without making a sound and had to have a second try to manage to speak.

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, looking for the most suitable words to explain to him the net of lies that Fury had trapped them in until that moment, but before she could say anything, Bruce burst into the room with a towel around his hips, his hair still wet and his eyes which, behind the bent glasses, were more lively than she had seen since he woke up.

“I know how we can find Tony.”


	78. Chapter 76: Creepily normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't betaed, since I finished translating it not long ago and I didn't want to make you wait any longer for the update. I hope it's readable enough, though.
> 
> As always, thanks a lot for your feedbacks! Also, I'll try to update again as soon as I can, but next chapter is double the length of the usual updates (yes, in my story smut parts tend to be longer then other parts XD), so it could take a while. Anyway, enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 76: Creepily normal**

 

Heimdall's gaze was burning his back.

Loki felt it upon him, sometimes so heavy that he could guess there was another gaze, with only one eye, controlling his actions, and sometimes as light as a feather, a perception at the edge of his consciousness that he could barely notice. He was certain that nothing he could do would allow him to preserve his lair, because Asgard's guardian would never be silent about it, if his only prince asked him about its location.

But he was tired of sensing those eyes following his every move.

After some hours had passed since his fight against the Other, his powers had restored enough to shield his apartment from Heimdall's sight again.

He placed one hand against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the energy he had struggled to recollect flow in the building. He fixed the damages that the fight had caused to the walls and doors and windows, and to the illusion that had kept his lair separated from the reality, hidden in a dimension he was the only one who could enter and exit. Just a little bit of magic to regain a slight safety.

It wouldn't last long, but he knew he had wounded his false brother deeply. He had pierced him from side to side, which would grant him a truce, some time to rest and to regain his strength, before deciding his next course of action.

_Three days._

He turned around to take a look of the other occupant of the living room, who was comfortably sitting on the couch.

Stark. Iron Man. The Man of Iron. The mortal with an artificial heart who collected inside himself memories and betrayals that were too familiar to him. An enemy that had unexpectedly assumed a huge relevance, given how only some days before he had been only a slightly interesting opponent, or a single step towards his revenge against Thor and the pathetic Midgardians that had dared to defy him.

Stark was studying him, now, like watching his every action could really make the mortal understand his powers. He was calmer than Loki would have expected, though, especially after their last discussion. It was too suspicious, because he knew too well and for personal experience how stubborn Stark was.

He had to have a plan.

The mortal hadn't accepted his conditions for the truce out of trust, he wasn't so stupid and he wasn't even resigned, like the first few days of his captivity, when he used to walking around mute and almost lifeless like a ghost. No, Stark had decided to fight for his freedom, just not openly, and he only needed to discover how.

“So, have you finally finished wasting precious energy and you're ready for your bedtime story?”, the mortal commented, as to underline his thoughts.

Loki gave his back to the wall that now reverberated with his magic.

“I have still enough energy to seal your mouth until morning. If I were you, I would not tempt me further.”

He ignored Stark's predictable protest without even listening to his words and instead he reached his bed.

It wasn't truly night, but many hours had passed since he had given the final blow to the Other and had saved Stark from death.

After he had managed to calm down enough to look at the mortal without the urge to detach his head from his neck or to punish him, he had decided that the first thing to do was to clean himself. Stark had remained silent, in a rare show of good sense, and soon they had taken a peaceful shower, finding both some space under the stream of hot water without any fights. To shower with his mortal had been a strange experience, but not as weird as he had expected given how much he treasured his solitude. Truth was, he had gotten used to Stark's presence, even in such intimate situations: he had assisted him during the bath when the mortal was burning and the mortal himself had reciprocated when he had been the one weakened.

They had shared the bed and the room, memories and nightmares, silence and provocations and fights, for whole days.

To wash himself while they were so close to each other, with the mortal's loud appreciations, provocations and glances – because even after having almost died, Stark wasn't able to keep his mouth shut – and with the pleasurable sensation of the warm water on his skin hadn't been annoying at all.

Once they had finished the shower, Stark had decided to challenge the kitchen with his mediocre culinary ability, but he had been so hungry and devoid of energy due to the fight that he had demanded a second, generous portion of the inadequate meal he had had to settle with.

Only after the food had refreshed him a little, giving a small part of his energy back to him, he had given his attention to the corpses that were still in the living room and to the damages his lair had suffered. Luckily for him, the Other hadn't broken all of his defensive spells: with only one window and the door as points of access to Midgard, the sounds of the fight and its effects should have been kept mostly hidden from the mortals that lived in the same building as him.

Disposing of the bodies had been his first action, dematerializing them to erase the thought of Thanos.

Now, after that effort and the new defensive spells he had cast on the walls, the weariness had set in every bone of his body and everything he yearned for was some hours of rest, so that his powers would be restored.

He wasn't alone, though, so sleep wouldn't arrive soon.

“I do not believe I gave you my permission to use my bed,” he commented, as soon as the mortal joined him on the mattress.

Stark lied down on his back, using his hands as a pillow under his head, while he was staring at him.

“Really? You take the only virginity I've left without asking it first, but you become all fussy about sharing the bed?”

Loki smiled, lifting one hand to let his magic collecting in his fingertips, green sparks that cracked in front of Stark.

“I like being comfortable.”

“Said the psychopathic god who fucked me on the floor and without even closing the hole in his shoulder first.”

Despite the light voice, the mortal wasn't as calm as he pretended to be: his muscles weren't relaxed, his breath was faster than normal, his gaze was focused on Loki like he didn't want to lose any of his moves; but it wasn't fear, and it wasn't even worry.

Stark was impatient.

The thought of falling asleep soon disappeared, lost in the eyes of his mortal.

“Why should I grant you the honor of sleeping in my bed, tonight?”

“Because you're crazy for me?”

The green in on his fingers became rings of cold, lucid steel, chains that lazily moved in the air, looking for a target.

“Do not flatter yourself, Stark.”

The mortal pulled back abruptly, sitting up with his arms stretched out, the open palms in full sight as to stop an attack.

“Whoa there, Piton, no sense of humor? I have no intentions of returning to sleep on the floor, so take your bdsm toys back, thank you.”

“But I have never said I wanted you on the floor.”

In the blink of an eye, the chains closed around Stark's wrists and ankles and tied him to the bed in a position of utter, delicious impotence: arms and legs opened and linked to the four edges of the bed, and in the mortal's gaze, eyes wide in surprise that didn't hide a fleeting glimpse of fear, there was also a deeper, more instinctive emotion.

Loki gave him a toothy smile when he recognized it as excitement, despite Stark's face being the example of resentment.

That was going to be a really entertaining night.


	79. Chapter 77: Burning night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta fabricdragon, who corrected this chapter at the speed of light, here it is my update. It's the longest chapter so far, and probably the one with the most sex in it, so... thank you all and enjoy your reading, I hope it won't disappoint you!

**Chapter 77: Burning night**

 

Tony found himself with breath stuck in his throat while he remembered another similar situation that had happened only a few days before. All of his perceptions were focused on the cold rings that circled his wrists and ankles, on the god so close to him, on his own heart that was hammering against the Reactor out of something different than fear.

Irritation, that's what it was, a burning irritation because he was being offered like some kind of terribly attractive sacrifice.

And there was already an half erection inside his boxers, something he was more aware of than he would have wanted to be, but when he had reached the bed, following the temptation of once again ignoring what his common sense suggested, he hadn't truly joined the god to sleep and nothing else and it wasn't like he hadn't had his mind full of impure thoughts. Finding himself chained to the bed, however, so exposed and vulnerable with the god that was looking at him like he was prey to toy with, wasn't an outcome to be proud of.

He tensed and buckled, pulling at the chains in an attempt to free himself that had the only result to mark his wrists and ankles with a red circle, while Loki was grinning. He didn't try it twice, instead he remained motionless on the mattress, with his breath faster than normal and his ears full of his heartbeats.

“Listen, Rock of Ages, we have never truly talked about it, but here on Earth there's something we call consensus.”

Maybe he would rather be terrified, but the truth was that the only unbearable thing to him was the god's pleased smile. A smile that soon became a predatory grin while the bastard scrutinized him from head to toe.

“Is it not what you want?”

“Fuck no!”

Okay, maybe a little, but not with chains and him so helpless.

In a green flash, Tony found himself without clothes and then the god was on him, as naked as he was, so perfect and threatening that for a moment he couldn't breathe.

“You should teach your body to support you better when you are lying.” Loki nipped at his chin. “Or you will never be able to be a convincing liar.”

Tony glared at him while he was looking inside his mind for an offense grave enough to console his hurt pride, but before he could open his mouth, the god's fingers brushed against his inner thigh, a path from his knee to his hip with just a touch of cold, and the insult he was about to pronounce became a gasp.

Loki widened his grin.

“Exactly.”

The god's free hand grabbed his hair and forced him to bare his neck where he bit down hard, eliciting a hiss from him, and then Tony had to fight to remain rational, because he was so aroused that his groin seemed like it was burning.

It was totally different from the other time they'd had sex. Too controlled, too damn slow, while the god's fingertips brushed his chest before returning to his crotch, his evil hand reaching for his erection and beginning stroking it but without the firmness Tony desperately wanted. Loki's touch was light and slow, full of promises that he knew would never be fulfilled.

“Do you want me to stop?” the tempter bastard purred, silken words so seductive that them alone would be enough to make Tony's mind crumble, even without the fingers that circled his erection, without the firm grip on his hair, the breath on his neck and the teeth that were leaving their mark on his skin.

“I want you to stop being an ass-” before he could finish his sentence, Loki bit down even harder, leaving a burning path on his skin along his shoulder, then going lower, outlining his nipple, while he was struggling in vain against the chains, he didn't know if to escape the god's attentions or to press himself against his mouth to have more.

“You're unfair,” he finally panted, when the hand that had been on his hair suddenly moved to pinch his other nipple.

From his chest, Loki's mouth kept going lower and stopped one moment on his bellybutton, before shifting to the left and lower again, only one inch from his erection.

Tony tensed in anticipation and then swore silently. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that Loki hadn't stopped watching him, not even when he nipped at his hips and licked his navel; those sinful, green eyes, bright due to malice and desire, had always been focused on him and that realization took his breath away.

The man above him was an enemy of the Avengers, an assassin who had tried to conquer the Earth, an – incredibly hot and annoyingly relatable – alien god, who was the perfect example of an unstable and psychopathic villain. Fuck, he was  _Loki_ , the reason why the Avengers had been created, the name that should have been on top of the 'people you should never have sex with' list. Especially not when chains were involved. And there had to be something very wrong with Tony, since the sheer awareness of that fact was making him even more hard.

Without stopping his teasing touches, the god moved. With a colder than normal hand, he traced his buttocks while kneeling between his legs, a threatening smile on his lips, but Tony didn't have the time to worry about that, because in one moment all of his perceptions were focused on his groin, in particular on the god's breath which was brushing his erection.

He shivered in anticipation, but again Loki showed his evil side and instead of reaching his cock he went lower.

“What is your decision?” he murmured, his mouth pressed against Tony's inner thigh, before biting him hard.

Tony's reply was a sound terribly similar to a whine. The bastard was playing dirty, they both knew it, but he couldn't rebel. He was losing in those sensations and he was aware of that.

“Let me go, now!” he ordered, even if he already knew he would never be obeyed. But he had to say something, to keep a defiant attitude even when his own body was betraying him and responding to Loki's touch, yearning for more.

“Letting you go? And pray tell, why should I do that?” the god replied, before closing his mouth around the tip of his erection.

Tony buckled, moaning loudly.

The other time they had had sex there had been passion, but there had been fears, adrenalin, suppressed rage and triumph too, his own need to be alive, to  _feel_ he was alive, and Loki's need to confirm his victory on that six fingered bastard. It had been an act born out of instinct, with sex, teeth, tongues, nails and hips that had fought with each other. Now, however, there were only their bodies and their breaths and their words, together with the awareness of something deeper, more rational regarding what was happening.

He tried to press himself against the god again, but one hand on his stomach kept him trapped against the mattress, while the god teased him with his lips and tongue, without taking him in his mouth. Tony clenched his jaw for a whole minute before surrendering.

“These are tortures too cruel even for your standards, you know?” he wheezed, his voice husky and a little bit desperate.

He saw Loki smiling, and then a wave of pleasure stole his breath away.

“I hate you,” he moaned, because after all that teasing the god had abruptly taken half of his erection inside his mouth and began sucking it soon after.

Laughter resonated around his cock, and Tony had to bite his cheek to not moan again. He closed his eyes, cursing the chains, the god, his own weakness in his mind. Then the bastard pulled back, replacing the perfect warmth of his mouth with his deft fingers.

Tony slowly opened his eyes, panting, finding his own flushed reflection in the green of Loki's stare. The god's eyes were burning bright, like his magic.

“Do you understand, now? The truth that your body knows, even when your stubborn mind refuses to acknowledge it? You want to be at my mercy, Tony Stark.”

And it was his name; the way Loki said it, in a natural, silken voice that seemed to reach his skin like a caress, that silenced all of his qualms. To hell with the remorse, the guilt, the pride.

What Loki was doing to him was too pleasurable and he had never been the kind of person who backed down from a challenge, especially when said challenge was sex related.

He took a deep, shaky breath when the god returned to suck at his cock, taking his erection one inch at a time until his was pressed against Tony's belly.

Loki kept sucking, then he swallowed hard, and Tony felt like dying and being in heaven all at once. The wet warmth enveloping his erection was too much, he was already close to coming, but it was too delicious and he couldn't nor wouldn't stop it. He was just about to surrender to those sensations, when he felt a wet finger on his hole, teasing him before thrusting into him with annoyingly ease and a glimpse of even more annoyingly pleasure. And really, he would have wanted to protest, to tell the god that now it was  _his_ turn to lay on his back and let Tony show him Tony Stark's renowned sexual prowess, but the bastard was sucking his cock with even more conviction and even if it was as clear as the day that all was a plot to dominate him–to make him submit– he really wasn't able to rebel.

The finger withdrew, and then there were two, stretching his hole and thrusting into him with an unexpected kindness that bordered on the frustrating side when Tony got used to the feeling and began wanting more. He closed his hands into fists, struggling against the chains because he needed to grab Loki's hair and make his head move faster, and dig his nails in his shoulder, to mark his too pale skin with red stripes, with his hands, his imprints, his desire,  _and Loki, please, move..._

He hadn't realized he had started talking out loud until the god stopped moving to lift his head and look at him with a malicious, too satisfied grin, while broken words and pleas echoed in the room.

“Move, dammit!” he growled, in an attempt to hide the embarrassment that had already colored his cheeks – it had to be a mistake; that broken voice couldn't be his, because Tony Stark never begged anyone.

Instead of doing what Tony hoped, which was taking his cock into his mouth again and forgetting about everything that had just happened, Loki kept staring at him and withdrew his fingers, crawling his way on Tony's burning body with the dangerous elegance of a predator, until they were face to face.

“I could leave you here, chained and unsatisfied. I could disappear and return after an hour. I could simply pull back and touch myself while I watch you desperately trying in vain to find some kind of relief without me.”

Even the god's voice was low and dangerous, and was carrying an unmistakable note of arousal.

Tony wasn't the only one who needed to have sex in the nearest future.

He jerked, fighting against his restrains and at the same time trying to rub against Loki's body.

“If you do it, I swear I'll find a way to kill you in your sleep.”

Loki snorted, even if there was a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“I am a god, it is not easy to kill me, mortal.”

Tony glared at him, because the chains had shortened, restricting his movement even more.

“I could always go for your hair. I bet it’s flammable.”

Suddenly, two fingers were thrusting into him again, while the god closed the distance between their faces.

“You would dearly regret it”, Loki promised him, only one inch from his mouth.

Tony assaulted his lips with a growl, kissing him and biting him until he tasted blood, fighting for control in the only contact he was allowed to.

A third finger added to the ones that were stretching him, adding a little sting, but the fingers were already lubricated and he was so relaxed and aroused that it didn't bothered him much. He opened his lips in a whine when the god pressed against him and he felt his erection against his own groin, because it was too much, he would become crazy for the wait.

He opened his legs more, for as much as the chains allowed him, to send the god the message that he didn't want to say out loud, that he was  _fucking_ ready, and that Loki please stopped the foreplay and began the actual sex. Like the god was reading his mind, he flashed him his evilest grin, thrusting his fingers into him again and brushing against his prostate, in a wave of pleasure that stole all of Tony's breath.

“Are you having some second thoughts, Stark?”

Even half delirious due to the arousal like he was, Tony managed to put him into focus. The god had his eyes half closed, the green in them was livelier and more burning than he had ever seen it and he was looking at his chained body like Tony was his favorite prey and at the same time the most precious thing in the world.

“I hate you.”

Loki burst into laughter.

After a teasing nip at his lips, he pulled his fingers back.

Tony was just about to yell something that would have him killed, or worse, teased even more, when he felt something bigger than fingers probing at his hole. It burned and hurt a little, but only on the side of pleasant, since he was so ready. He held his breath until Loki's cock was buried inside him and only then he released a shaky breath.

“I truly hate you, and your ability of materializing lube out of thin air is a dirty trick and you'll have to teach me that,” he wheezed, feeling sweaty, so stretched and full that it almost seemed too much, but he didn't care, he didn't care of how panting his voice had sounded either, he only needed more.

With his grin still plastered on his face, the god began moving, thrusting even deeper, and Tony hissed, half in pain and half in pleasure.

Immediately Loki stopped, panting, while Tony simply stared at him like he had been enchanted, overwhelmed by the sensations that were assaulting his nerves. With his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed and the forehead wrinkled in concentration, struggling with control, Loki was sex incarnated.

Tony tried to regain his breath, so that he could smirk and address him with a well-placed snark, but suddenly Loki's hands were on his hips, almost cold fingers that grabbed him in a bruising grip, and the god start moving again. He pulled back slowly, so slowly that almost didn't hurt at all, but his arms were tense and he was slightly trembling like he was struggling so hard to maintain his control and was just a breath away of fucking him bloody – and no, Tony shouldn't find even  _that_ thought arousing, but the sheer idea of the god pounding him into the mattress and making him scream made his erection harden even more.

After the first thrusts, the pain subsided almost completely and he began meeting the god's movement to the best of his abilities while he was still chained to the bed. More than being the bottom, he was annoyed by his helplessness, by the impossibility of moving, of digging his nails in Loki's shoulders, of exploring his body, of trying to mark his pale skin.

When the god lowered his face enough, he assaulted his lips in an enraged kiss. At least that was a contact where he could fight for control, and he did just so, he fought until he drew blood, showing Loki that he would never actually be submissive. As soon as he pulled back to breathe again, he noticed with a warm satisfaction that the god was breathless too. Smiling, he return to his skin, licking his jaw until he reached his true target: Loki's pale, flawless throat that seemed like it existed only to be bitten, marked and explored with his tongue.

He bit down hard, in the flesh next to the collarbone, and when he tasted blood he felt Loki tensing abruptly.

“Stark,” Loki moaned, a sound that went straight to Tony's groin.

One hand grabbed his hair to keep him against his neck, and when Tony bit him again, the god gifted him with another loud moan.

A moment later, Loki tugged his hair harshly, forcing him to pull back from his skin with a growl, in the proof that he wasn't happy of his own momentary loss of control. When Tony met his furious eyes with a bloodstained grin, he realized it had been declared war.

“Such a sensitive neck you have, Cruella,” he said, not caring of how out of breath he sounded.

Loki's face hardened, before his fingers went to Tony's throat, brushing against his skin in an almost impalpable touch.

“I should have gagged you,” he murmured, like he were talking to himself and still considering that option.

“And losing the honor of enjoying my legendary oral prowess?”

And no, Tony shouldn't have indulged himself in that kind of sexual innuendo, not while he was fucking with an unstable god that seemed just about to tear him into pieces and at the same time to make him beg for that to happen. But Loki, even if he could have strangled him with minimal effort, or taken him at his words and immediately demand a proof of his legendary prowess, only gave him one of his psychopathic smiles.

“I believe you would have liked it.”

The god punctuated his words with a bite on his jaw and a deeper thrust than the other.

“Why do you not admit it? This is what you desire; this is what you yearn for.” He bit him again, this time on his neck, hard enough to leave a red mark. “To be mine and mine alone. Your body at my disposal, your mind at my mercy, a mortal I could use as I see fit. And you would be completely helpless, vulnerable, incapable of stopping me... my toy and my slave, and you would enjoy it.”

Tony moaned, both because of those words and the bite that followed them.

“Forget... about it,” he wheezed, but it was nothing more than a whisper, a protest born out of pride and stubbornness, not out of rejection.

Truth was that he had never been one who liked submitting, especially not with other men, since he had always preferred being the dominant part of the couple – Pepper aside. But Loki was a god, a conquest to be proud of, and if he couldn't have him at his own terms, Loki's terms were fine too, especially given how much he was enjoying that.

He only had to bask in the pleasure he was feeling and forget about his pride for a little while, at least until he would be able to overturn the situation at his own favor – and then, he would be the one who tormented the other.

Loki stole another kiss from him, then the chains around Tony's ankles disappeared, but before he could do anything, the god lifted one of his legs to thrust into him at a deeper angle.

Tony opened his mouth without making a sound, while his whole body was trembling out of effort and pleasure, now that Loki was hitting his prostate with every thrust. The uncomfortable position he had been forced to, the chains around his wrists, his bleeding palms were his own nails had broken the skin... nothing mattered anymore, to him. There was only the amazing sensation of pleasure building in his groin, and the god above him was the most beautiful thing he had seen, with his hair now messy, his eyes wild, his lips wet and still bloodied from the bites.

The hand on his hip strengthened his grip, and he knew he would have bruises the day after, but he didn't care. He focused on the other hand, the one next to his head that Loki used to support himself and not crush him, which was close enough to tempt him.

He licked his wrist, tasting a hint of leather and snow in his skin, before biting him. He had the satisfaction of hearing a moan, a vivid, rough sound, while the god's hand dug his fingers on the mattress like it wanted to eviscerate it. Then Loki's movements became faster and more erratic, and Tony lost the ability to think.

“Loki,” he wheezed between moans, incapable of saying anything else, too much lost in the sensations, because the pleasure was almost unbearable, there were cold fingers on his hip and warm lips against his own, and teeth sinking into his skin, and a tongue that licked and teased and tasted every inch of his neck and mouth, and every thrust was a burning pleasure, and _yes, more, harder, don't stop, and Loki Loki Loki..._

The god's grabbed his erection, and suddenly it became too much and perfect at the same time, and he couldn't breathe anymore, and he had no thoughts and no mind. Only a couple of strokes were enough for him to come so hard that his mind blacked out.

When he regained his wits and found himself able to breathe again, he tried to put Loki into focus through the pleasure that was still blurring his senses. The god's face was tense, his hair was a mess and there was still that wild, savage pleasure in his features that made him breathtakingly beautiful.

“You are mine, Stark,” he growled, sinking his teeth on Tony's neck while his thrusts became even more violent. Then he tensed, his fingers digging into Tony's hips until they left bruises, and he felt the god coming inside himself.

Soon after, Loki almost collapsed on him and only his trembling arms sustained him. For a moment, they remained still and silent, the god's forehead only a couple of inches away from Tony's, their panting breaths mingling together while they slowed down. Then, Loki withdrew and let himself fall down on the mattress at his side. He only needed a gesture of his hand for the chains to disappear.

Tony remained motionless, too exhausted even to massage his aching wrists and shifting his arms in a more comfortable position. He only hoped that the god's stillness was due to his same reason, because if there was some justice in the universe Loki had to be as tired and drained as he was.

“You're completely, irreparably evil,” he finally commented. “Totally beyond any possibility of redemption.”

At the edge of his sight, he glimpsed an half, bitter smile.

“Glad that you at last had understood that.”

“And for tomorrow night I demand some god proof cuffs, because I'm sure that, for you, chains wouldn't be enough,” he continued, turning on his side so that he could face the god properly.

For a moment he saw a flash of surprise in his green eyes, before Loki gave him a toothy grin.

“What makes you think I would give myself to a mortal?”

“The fact that I'm the mortal?”

With his eyes suddenly half closed in what was a mix of threat and seduction, Loki closed the distance between them until he was brushing against his mouth. His breath was fresh, now, and Tony felt a pleasant shiver while he suppressed the urge to moisten his lips.

“You will have to be a lot more convincing than now if you want to have a chance with me, Stark,” the god said, almost purred, with a silken voice that alone could have awoken his arousal, if only Tony had been a few years younger.

There was a ghost of a smile on his mouth, before he could react, then the god pulled back and turned his back on him, his breath calm and regular again, like he was already half asleep.

Tony remained watching his pale back – because, damn, even his back was perfect and seductive and he wanted to kiss and lick it – without deciding if he was more offended or more let down by the short time Loki had needed to turn him down.

_Bastard,_ he said inside his head, before he too drifted to sleep.


	80. Chapter 78: Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my dear fabricdragon for her help and thanks to you all for your comments and kudos!

**Chapter 78: Preparations**

 

_Coulson._

Clint could hear Pepper discussing Thor's condition with Jarvis, Thor himself, with his battle gear already on, doing his best to show how his wound didn't weaken him anymore and looked more solemn and determined than Clint had ever seen him, while Natasha was observing each one of them without saying anything, even if her gaze always returned to him, with an attention that gave him the certainty that he hadn't been able to completely hide his inner turmoil.

_Phil._

It had been five hours since Pepper had said that name, the secret that had given her an advantage over Fury, before she had been interrupted by Bruce's arrival. By then, Clint had wanted to yell in frustration, because suddenly Pepper's attention had shifted towards Tony, and he liked the billionaire, the guy was an awesome friend and someone he would have gladly risked his life for, but the thought of being left with that half-spilled secret for who knew how long had been impossible to bear. He had been sure he would have become crazy, tormented by that name without an explanation, so tense and angry he had felt the desire to kill someone.

He hadn't truly listened to what Bruce had begun explaining with a voice full of enthusiasm and hope; the only word that his mind had been able to process was the name of his handler. When Pepper had turned the attention towards him again, it had been a surprise.

“I'm going to the lab with Bruce,” she had murmured, before showing him an apologetic smile. “You're staying here?”

He had looked at her, at her smile, then at Bruce, who had been so inflamed by his idea that he hadn't realized he was standing half naked in the kitchen.

“Yes, I'll take another cup of coffee”, he had replied with a voice that hadn't sounded like his own, trying to keep his rage at bay, to choose a polite answer and not one meant to hurt and to vent his frustration on her, because he could never ask Pepper to have a different priority than Tony, and he knew it. Still, swallowing down that thought had been harder than he would have wanted to admit.

She had nodded at him, but before leaving she had stopped one moment at the door.

“Jarvis, please, show Clint what we were talking about.”

“Of course. Mister Barton, if you would be so kind as to go back to your room...”

Clint had obeyed immediately, without even expressing his gratitude through words, but Pepper hadn't forgotten about it, she hadn't left him hanging on a name that could mean anything.

In his room, the television screen Tony had insisted on puting in every area was already turned on.

And there he had seen him.

In a base in Alaska, busy giving orders to some people who looked like soldiers. The usual collected expression, the usual haircut, the tie and the suit in perfect order. Still alive.

He had swallowed hard and suddenly there hadn't been any air inside his lungs.

The recording Jarvis was showing him was dated that current week.

It had taken him whole minutes to regain the ability to speak.

“How long has Pepper known it?” he had finally asked.

“Miss Potts and I discovered Agent Coulson's presence in this secret base belonging to S.H.I.E.L.D. forty-nine hours ago.”

Two days. Pepper had known that Coulson had survived for two days and had told him that when she didn't owe him anything. When the organization he had been working for since he was a little more than a teen had kept it hidden from him. And not only the organization. Even one of the people he respected more had tricked him – no, not one, two of them, Coulson was in it too, Coulson who was alive, who seemed perfectly safe and hadn't even given him a hint, something to let him know he had faked his own death.

He had closed his hands into fists, because it was easier to let his rage flow than to face the other emotions that the discovery about his handler had arisen.

Coulson was alive.

Alive, in perfect shape, he had been for a whole year while Clint was mourning him, suffering for a loss he had never truly been able to overcome.

Coulson had been to him what Clint himself had meant to Natasha. When Clint had been twenty, with a past life of misery and the path of a criminal as his obvious choice spread in front of himself, Coulson had recruited him. He had become his first and only key figure in a world where he had always been alone, with no one to count on – not his brother, not his companions from the circus, only himself, his own strength, his bow.

Coulson had helped him to find a discipline and soften the worst edge of his character, he had taught him to trust people who deserved it, he had been the infallible shield that had always watched his back, mission after mission, a sureness that had guided Clint's hands when he had to fire an arrow or when he only had to observe without becoming the angel of death for anyone.

Before the Avengers, Coulson had been his strongest bond together with Natasha.

And Clint knew what being a spy meant. To lie, to bend the truth, to play a role that didn't resemble himself, tricking everyone. He knew the frustration of forming bounds that would never last, of living two lives, at the point that one began wondering which one was the real life and which one the life under cover. He knew even how Natasha, Fury and Coulson were way better than him at playing that game of lies and omissions that was necessary to save the world.

But it hurt him to discover that he hadn't gained enough trust to be informed of that plan.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

As a response to Jarvis' question, Clint had laughed, even if the sound had come out broken and bitter.

“Right now I'd only like to have here Fury and Coulson so that I could punch them in the face, but I doubt you can grant my wish.”

“Sadly no.”

“It's okay. I'll see if I can grant it myself once I'll meet them.”

The recording had stopped several minutes before and he didn't have the hands closed into fists anymore, but his fingers still tingled for the need to his bow and maybe venting some of his rage in the firing range would make him feel better.

“Mister Barton, I understand your turmoil, but thanks to Doctor Banner's idea it seems that there are concrete possibilities to track down Loki and Mister Stark with him.” Jarvis voice had then become hesitating. “Miss Potts and the other Avengers are discussing the best course of action in the kitchen, would you mind joining them? They would be glad to have your help.”

The thought of Tony had made him reach the door in no time.

“Sure.” He could save his friend and exact vengeance from one of his enemies at the same time, in the best occupation he could find. Only after he had taken the first steps, he had abruptly stopped. “Does Natasha know?”

 

Five hours after the discovery that Coulson was still alive, that question still hadn't stopped haunting his mind.

Jarvis had told him that he didn't have enough information to give him a certain answer, but neither he nor Pepper had said anything to Natasha, so Clint was prone to believe she didn't know.

He looked at her, meeting her unreadable eyes and a face that still showed the last days and a half of tension and pain.

No, Natasha couldn't know. She would never keep silent about a secret so important, not without a reason, and at the moment he couldn't find any. He didn't want to think that she too deserved his resentment.

“Do you really think you can do it? With your wounds...”

Clint shifted his attention to Pepper, looking for a distraction to erase that uncomfortable doubt.

Thor looked determined. “I can fight. And my brother shall be weakened by the wounds of our last fight too.”

As to prove his words, Thor lifted Mjolnir. He had his gear already on, still stained with blood, and Clint felt a shiver in his stead remembering when the bastard had almost gutted him.

A wrinkle appeared on Pepper's forehead.

“But he wasn't pierced from side to side.”

The hand gripping Mjolnir lowered, but Thor's expression remained convinced.

“Loki is my responsibility, Lady Pepper. I thank you for your concern, but I am a warrior. I shall not hide while my shield-brothers risk their life because of my mistakes.”

He had spoken in a solemn voice, like he was swearing an oath, and for a moment Clint wondered what would happen once the two gods met. If finally his friend had abandoned his hope of redeeming a brother that deserved only death.

“At least rest until Bruce finds Tony's coordinates.”

Thor hesitated, then he nodded and sat down. On the kitchen's table there was already a wide selection of biscuits, pop-tarts, toasted bread with jam and peanut butter, tea, coffee and, soon after, Pepper added even a huge portion of eggs and bacon, before putting a second portion of them in the pan.

Clint had already eaten a couple of hours before, but when Natasha sat down next to the god, he sat down next to her, taking a plate to have a second breakfast.

“I didn't know you could cook,” he commented, watching Pepper as she brought the second portion of eggs and bacon to the table and offered Thor two sausages.

She smiled at him.

“Only the simplest things.”

Natasha was eating in silence, but her attention was always upon him, and Clint struggled against the urge to move or to act with a nonchalance that would immediately put him under suspicion. As soon as he finished his breakfast, he stood up.

“I'm going to see what's new with Bruce.”

He began putting some random food on a tray, then Pepper offered him a hot cup.

“Bring this to him too. It's his favorite brand of tea,” she murmured, before taking another tray. “I'm going to Steve's room.”

“Sure.”

He reached the elevator without even watching Natasha, but he knew she was following his every move and he felt her eyes burning his back even after the elevator began its descent.

When the door to the lab opened, he gingerly took a step forward.

“Can I?” he asked, afraid to break Bruce's concentration.

“Of course.”

It was strange seeing him in the lab without Tony, but Bruce was moving around the screens with a confidence that showed that he was in his element, and that he was more comfortable there than in the kitchen or in the common room. Clint placed the tray on the desk that seemed the less important one and made a gesture towards the breakfast he had brought.

“Do you want to eat something?”

Bruce looked at the food before returning to stare at a screen again.

“Yes, thank you. Just give me five minutes.”

“Thank Pepper, she's the one who cooked everything.” He came closer, studying the devices and the holographic screens that even with his training as a spy meant nothing to him. “You know, sometimes I forget how much a genius you are. You should start reminding us that every hour, like Tony does.”

Bruce smiled a little.

“I fear I lack the necessary exuberance.” He returned serious almost immediately and gave a couple of input to the nearest screen. “And in this particular case I've actually been a blind idiot, I should have thought about that sooner. It's thanks to you that I had that idea.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He moved towards another screen, where column of numbers were flowing so quickly that Clint felt his head spinning, but to Bruce it had to be perfectly clear, since he nodded before turning to face him again. “You reminded me that Loki had a few of the Tessaract's parts with him and that he was probably using them against us.”

“So you're trying to find the Tesseract's radiation and with that we'll know where that bastard is, right?”

When he had returned to the kitchen, Pepper had explained to him how Bruce's research would work and he still doubted it would be that easy. Thor had contributed increasing his doubts saying that Loki used to hide his magic with his spells, so that no other magic users would be able to perceive him. Bruce's eyes, however, showed the same sureness that Tony used to have when he transformed his bizarre ideas into working inventions.

“Exactly. For now I've found the park where we fought. It seems that the energy Loki used against us was so intense that there are lingering Tesseract emissions even after all these hours. It shouldn't be impossible to trace less intense emissions, with time.” Bruce pointed at the two biggest screens. “Now I'm analyzing the radiation spectrum using the park as the epicenter and gradually increasing the search radius.”

Clint nodded.

“And once you'll find him? Do you think we'll be able to beat him, this time?” He had already the urge to go grabbing his bow, if only to have something solid to grip. “You and I are the only unhurt ones of the team.”

Bruce sighed, taking off his glasses to clean them with the hem of his shirt.

“Do we have any other choices?” He put them on again a moment later, then his face hardened, and for a moment Clint was sure he had seen the Hulk lurking behind the lenses. “I won't leave without Tony.”


	81. Chapter 79: Plan of action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a not a beated chapter, but I hope it's readable anyway. Thank you all for your feedbacks, they made my day!

**Chapter 79: Plan of action**

 

His belly still hurt.

“So there's hope to find him?”, he asked, fighting against the urge to close his fingers into fists.

Pepper nodded with a smile. Steve had never seen her expression softening in such a way since Tony's disappearing, despite the exhaustion and the fatigue on her face and the purple circles around her eyes that showed how little sleep she had concede herself during the last few days.

“Bruce is working on it right now. He's using the same method you used on the Helicarrier when you tried to locate Loki the first time, after he stole the Tesseract.”

Right, the Tesseract. Or, more precisely, part of it. A little shard of that dangerous relic that now had to be kept safe on Asgard. Steve remembered Schmidt, his words, his disfigured face contorted in rage and pure terror while he revealed what he had in the arm that the god had taken away.

“Are there any results, yet?”

Pepper's smile widened and the relief mixed with hope in her eyes was a difficult sight to bear to Steve, with the sense of failure still weighting down his chest, more consistent and painful than the wound on his belly.

“He has already picked up some radiations in the park where you fought. With Jarvis' help, he should be able to scan all New York in more or less twenty-four hours.”

Twenty-four hours, then. Steve passed one hand on the bandages that covered the lower part of his torso, touching soft, aching skin, muscles and internal organs that were still damaged, that despite the serum effects weren't healing as fast as he needed. Even sitting up with his back against a cushion to eat breakfast had been a hard effort and he didn't know how much time it would have taken without Pepper's help.

Like she had guessed his thoughts, her smile wavered.

“You don't have to worry, Steve. Just focus on getting better, okay?”

He shook his head.

“I want to help.”

His teammates were already discussing a plan to save Tony and he should have been with them, not in bed like a useless, wounded failure whose only achievement had been to lead them to a bloody defeat. He tried to straighten his torso and distance himself from the cushion that had granted him a painless support, pressing his lips together to muffle a whimper when that little movement worsened the pain in his belly.

Pepper stood up immediately, her hands already on his back, ready to support him, while her eyes showed a hint of reprimand. Steve felt them burning his skin and making his chest tightened in a bittersweet pain that he knew too well, because it had been a lot of time since a woman had looked at him him with such a gaze.

He closed his eyes, breathing hard out of effort, with one arm pressed against the bandages like a futile attempt to contain his pain and his head bowed.

Peggy had looked at him in the same way when he had tried to drown in alcohol Bucky's loss. A mix of worry, reprimand and pity without any humiliation. Given Pepper's strong character and her good nature, which had earned her his utmost respect in a matter of days, he didn't find truly surprising that he could catch glimpses of Peggy in some of Pepper's behavior and attitude. It was a sweet and painful sensation, a nostalgia he would never get rid off.

Two women worrying for him, caring for his life and his well-being, even if he had loved only one of them. But Pepper was a precious friend anyway, she was the one who, together with Tony, had given him a home, his place in a world he didn't belong to.

When he opened his eyes, the pain in his belly had lessened, but the gaze focused on his face was still worried and it hurt him in a personal way Loki would never be able to do.

“You shouldn't exert yourself. The doctors said that you're recovering faster than a normal person, but you're still human. If you move there's a risk that your wound reopens.”

Steve sighed. He really was a weak, if he was commiserating himself, following the ghost of an old love even after all those months since his awakening.

Now he didn't have the time for that. He could be a failed, useless leader, but he would never back out of his responsibilities, especially not until he could hope to be of some kind of help.

“I'll be careful, but I want to reach the others.”

It was half his duty and half the need to verify with his own eyes that his team was well. Even with Jarvis' reassurance, he  _had_ to see them, to take notice of their wounds, to analyze every tiniest detail of his failure so that he could swear to never fail that way again.

Pepper hesitated and he had the impression that she was biting the inside of her cheek to suffocate a negative answer. Then with a sigh, she nodded.

“Okay. But at the first sign of blood, you'll be back to bed, even if I have to ask Clint and Happy to bring you here by force.”

 

 

 

Thor, Clint, Bruce and her. A god with a wound that was still in the process of healing, whose movements betrayed his pain despite his attempt to hide it. An archer who was quite in good shape, if only he weren't so upset, and she still hadn't discovered why. A green monster that would probably be a danger to his own allies, but at the same time was their best asset. And an assassin with an out of commission arm, aching muscles and a focused mind that was ready to compensate for her hurt body.

Steve was too wounded to participate to the upcoming fight, Natasha had realized it as soon as she had heard his dragged steps, before she had even seen him. So, they were left with the four of them, a group of wounded warriors against an enemy that had already managed to defeat them when they were in top form.

Still, she didn't think of going against the god as a suicide mission.

Loki had to be at least as hurt as they were, given what he had suffered during the last fight.

And there was Thor, as the most consistent of their strong points. His tired eyes contained the same bitter, irrevocable awareness she had seen in the eyes of the soldiers who were about to take part of a raid in civilian territory: the necessity to obey to an order they were already feeling guilty for.

This time, Thor would aim to kill.

“You should stay in the Tower too, Natasha. You're too wounded.”

Natasha turned to face their leader, recognizing the protective and at the same time frustrated hint in his voice.

Steve was sitting on the couch, his face pale and tense, but his eyes were focused and showed a determination that burnt.

After a brief discussion, he had resigned himself to remain together with Pepper in the Tower that was now their base, following the saving mission through Jarvis. That way, he would be able to coordinate their actions like he were on the battlefield, giving them his support even without physically being among them; but it was clear how much he hated accepting a secondary role and not sharing the danger with them.

“I'll be on the Quinjet, I won't engage Loki directly.” She repressed the impulse to pass one hand on the bandages around her arm and smiled instead. “With Jarvis' help I'll have no problems flying it with only one functioning arm.”

Steve grimaced, even if he didn't reply, then sighed in defeat.

Clint came back to the common area a moment later, his bow already gripped tightly by his fingers and his face full of impatience.

“So, do we all agree? As soon as Doc gives us the exact location of the bastard, we four will leave.” He turned to look at Steve and Pepper. “You will assist us through Jarvis and if things get ugly, Nat will try to extract us from the battlefield while we're still in one piece and we'll get back here with the Quinjet.”

Thor stood up slowly, strengthening his grip on Mjolnir, which he hadn't let go even during breakfast.

“Aye.”

They were all focused and determined.

“Miss Potts, Director Fury is here,” Jarvis' calm voice said, and then there was only silence and the anticipation for a rescue mission was replaced by a more dangerous and tangible threat.


	82. Chapter 80: Backup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedbacks and especially thank you for the 2000 kudos! I didn't think I would ever receive so many! Again, this is an unbetaed chapter, but I hope it won't be too bad. Enjoy your reading.

**Chapter 80: Backup**

 

“Director Fury is here.”

There was a moment of complete silence.

“What?” Clint exclaimed.

“In the Tower?” Pepper asked.

“Yes. He is currently at the entrance and he is asking to be granted access to this floor. He wants to negotiate.”

Clint strengthened his grip on the bow, showing a rage that, to Natasha, was deeply suspicious, since it was a lot more personal and intense than what she would expect given what had recently happened.

“Show me the video feed, Jarvis.”

At Pepper's order, a screen appeared from the ceiling, which showed the hall of the first floor. The only person in front of the elevation was a man wrapped up in a big hoodie, with his head bowed and his shoulders hunched.

“It seems he is using a civilian disguise. May I trap him in the elevator?”

Natasha found herself almost smiling. She suppressed that impulse, but it wasn't possible not to pick up the hope in Jarvis' voice. She looked at Pepper then, studying her tense body, her concentrated face and the way her fingers were moving on the skirt of her tallier, as to dry her sweaty hands. For a civilian, the CEO of Stark Industries was good at showing only those small details as the proofs of her tension.

“No, but before letting him through, be sure that he doesn't bring weapons of microphones with him.”

“Sure.”

Clint turned to face Pepper.

“Are you really letting him in?”

She nodded.

“I want to hear what he has to say.”

On the screen, the doors opened and then the image changed, showing the inside of the elevator. The man went in, then, after saying something with an unhappy face, deposited a gun on the floor. A couple of minutes and a lot more words later, he deposited two knives too, a bulletproof vest and a ultrasound prototype weapon that Natasha had seen only as blueprints in one of the S.H.I.E.L.D.'s server.

It took four minutes and a half before the elevator arrived to that floor. Almost five minutes for an ascendant that usually would take not more than ninety seconds. Natasha was sure that the delay was Jarvis' gift for Pepper, to give her some time to collect her mind, and at the same time a little pettiness against Fury.

When in the end the elevator's doors opened, Natasha silently praised the spy for his disguise.

The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. perfectly resembled a hobo: a, patch up, too big hoodie, with the hood concealing his face, a worn-out pair of jeans of undefined color, and shoes so old that seemed about to split in half at every step.

There were some details that contradicted the shabby appearance of someone who should have been only a poor man like many others, though: he was subtly looking around from under the hood, the muscles under the hunched shoulders were tense and Natasha felt her own instinct telling her to stay in guard against the man. A moment later, Fury pulled his hood back, revealing his usual stern expression, which was even harder now that his blind eye wasn't hidden by an eye patch.

He looked at each one of them, before grimacing.

“Potts,” he said, as a cold greeting.

Pepper nodded with an expression just as cold.

“Nick.”

Her hands were trembling, but not out of fear. For a moment, Natasha had the impression that only her self control born in years of work under Stark and as a CEO stopped her from attacking the spy in front of all of them.

“What are you doing here?” she asked instead, with an icy voice.

“I've come to negotiate, as I imagine you've already been told.”

Fury took a step towards her, his meek behavior replaced by the sure and threatening attitude of a man used to be in charge, but immediately Clint came between them. Natasha followed his movements with eyes like two suspicious cracks. Something had damaged Clint's trust in S.H.I.E.L.D.. Not Bruce's forced sedation, or at least not only that, because he hadn't showed such an intense resentment in the hospital. It had to be something new, something Clint had come to know only recently. Something grave or believable enough to push him openly on Pepper's side.

His action had to catch Fury by surprise too, because his face hardened.

“Barton?”

“I told him,” Pepper said, before Clint could reply.

Fury tightened his jaw so hard that Natasha had the impression of hearing it creaking.

Clint advanced even more.

“I suggest you to not take any more steps, Director.”

And then Fury's gaze focused on her, searching her face in a silent interrogation.

“Romanoff?”

“My loyalty hasn't changed since we last met.”

Fury studied them for some long, silent seconds again, while the tension became even more suffocating. Clint, standing between him and Pepper, as a weapon and a shield at the same time. Pepper herself, returning his gaze with his same impassibility. Thor, silent but grim, Mjolnir at his side. Steve, his mouth a bitter line in a pale face. Then, with a sigh, the Director chose a chair no one had offered him and sat down, motioning for them to do the same, in a behavior so similar to a surrender that Natasha narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She sat down too anyway, like all of them apart Clint did.

“I had no choice,” Fury started. “Banner wasn't able to control himself anymore and...”

“If you try again to justify what you did to Bruce, I'll call him here that very moment, so that he'll be the one to judge how convincing your words will be,” Pepper hissed, interrupting Fury with a voice full of anger. “If Bruce had problems in remaining calm and in control it was only because you and the continuous surveillance you had imposed on him were tiring him out.”

Fury remained silent for a moment, before looking at all of them again.

“I admit I'm surprised to find you all alive. Is Banner still sedated?”

“Bruce is alive and is working to find Tony. A task that _you_ have failed. Do you have something interesting to say, or can I show you the door?”

Again there was silence. Natasha counted until forty-two before the impassibility on Fury's face was replaced by a grimace.

“The Council backed me into a corner, regarding Banner's situation. I guess you, with your artificial spy, are aware of the upcoming new alien threat.”

“I prefer being called artificial intelligence, Director. Spy is a too limited denomination for the description of my abilities.”

Pepper's lips quivered at Jarvis' voice.

“Yes, I'm aware.”

“The Council wanted to use Banner as a last weapon. If I had opposed it, I would have lost S.H.I.E.L.D..” Fury crossed his arms over his chest. “Don't misunderstand, Potts. I don't care about you and I don't care whether you're a friend or an enemy. But I believe that you, the Avengers and Stark Industries are more useful allies than the Council, for the war that is going to start soon.” And Natasha understood even before he said it, because it could be only one reason for the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director to prefer an attempt to diplomacy to the annihilation or a simple indifference. “Help me overturn the Council”.

Judging from the flash of interest that crossed Pepper's eyes, she had already begun analyzing Fury's proposal. She was a civilian, but negotiations and the analysis of the pro and con were exactly her field.

“Why should I?”

“The Council will never let the Avengers be free, especially not Banner. Even if it isn't able to control them through S.H.I.E.L.D., it will find some other means. And I don't have time for this internal skirmish when we still have to prepare our defenses to face an alien invasion.” Fury's gaze went from one of them to the others. “You need S.H.I.E.L.D. as an ally, or at least as not an enemy. For my part, I'll let Banner and the other Avengers full autonomy, at least until they'll become a danger for society.”

“Miss Potts, I'm sorry to interrupt this negotiation, but Doctor Banner has just found Loki's location.”

Natasha caught a glimpse of surprise crossing Fury's gaze, before everything vanished in the usual impassible mask.

They were all on their feet in a moment, even Steve, paler than before.

“We'll talk about that once Tony is with us again,” Pepper said, with a voice that left no place for compromises.

Fury hesitated, then nodded.

“I'd like to stay and watch the rescue.” His lips made a grimace. “If you allow me to,” he added, in a forced politeness. “I can still help, even if not in an official way.”

Pepper looked at him with uncertainty, and Natasha could understand her doubts: despite she thought it improbable for Fury to take advantage of the situation to kill her or take her as a hostage, there was still a small percentage of danger, especially for a not trained woman, and it was only natural that the CEO felt worried at the thought of staying in presence of a dangerous spy without actual protection.

Even Clint hesitated, shifting the gaze from them to the elevator that would bring him to the roof where the Quinjet was ready to leave.

Steve reached Pepper's side.

“You go, I'll take care of the things here.”

He had walked for seven feet without stumbling, with slow, pained steps, but the exhaustion on his face didn't belie his determination. Captain America had taken position and, even as wounded as he was, he would be an inviolable protection.

Natasha only had to look into his eyes to have the certainty that, at her return, she would find the Stark Industries CEO safe and sound, even if she would be the only one still alive in the tower.

Even Pepper had to have the same realization, because after a nod she let her eyes wander out of the window.

“Jarvis, inform Bruce that the Quinjet is waiting for him on the roof.” Then her eyes returned to them. “Good luck.”


	83. Chapter 81: Falling apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed chapter again, sorry^^" Thank you as always for your feedbacks, I really appreciated them!

**Chapter 81: Falling apart**

 

He didn't think he could feel so at ease with a psychopathic god, given the circumstances.

Loki seemed troubled, despite the awesome sex they had had the night before, however Tony couldn't avoid thinking of the last events with a pleasant laziness.

He had risked to die, he had met a different, shittier alien than the Chitauri and he had had sex with an enemy. As a bottom. Twice.

He should have lost his mind, between his guilt and the traumas he had suffered and the frustration of still being a prisoner, but truth was he was enveloped by an unexpected peace. Loki had granted him three days, a short window of time for both of them to heal and rest, so that they could discuss again with more calm and politeness about their intentions, and if the god wasn't ready to compromise, he would disappear at the first moment of solitude, using his new invention.

After all, everything was extremely easy.

He stretched and yawned, then he returned to occupy a not very dignified position on the couch.

Sex truly had to bring a relaxing effect, especially after all that time of abstinence. He even managed to find it funny the way the god was browsing through the pages of a couple of tomes only to stand up abruptly to walk to one of the walls, moving like a beast in captivity.

“Is something upsetting you, Harry Potter?”

If anything, Tony should have been the one upset, since even sitting down with caution sent a sting of pain in his ass, together with a glimpse of arousal he didn't truly know how to react to.

Loki sent him a cold glance.

“Nothing of your concern.”

Tony smiled.

“And if I wanted to converse a little?”

“Then I suggest you to desist, at least until you find someone who is interested in your words and yourself. Which, to spell it out for you, is not me.”

Tony snorted, without even replying with words, but Loki was lying, it was as clear as the day that the god had a soft spot for him. After that night of good, restful sleep, he had even made him some breakfast.

 

_Tony had seen him stopping by on the door with a plate in his hand and a searching expression on his face, while he was in the exact center of the bed, still basking in the pleasant sensation of waking up after a night without nightmares._

“ _Breakfast in bed? In comparison to the chains, you really have improved your courting abilities.”_

_Loki had shot him a disdainful glare, like Tony was a disgusting, annoying insect, before turning his back on him and walking away._

“ _This is my meal, Stark,” he had replied with a snobbish voice, and at that Tony had rolled his eyes even though the god was already gone._

_When he had decided to get up, however, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness between his buttocks and the general stiffness that reminded him too well of which role he had had to assume during the sex, he had found a generous portion of food waiting for him in the kitchen, still untouched._

_He had allowed himself to take a shower before eating, both because the stickiness was a really unpleasant sensation and because he had wanted to see if the god would leave the portion for him anyway._

_When he had returned to the kitchen, finally cleaned up and feeling refreshed, the food had still been there._

_He had devoured it in a few minutes, realizing without actual surprise that Loki's cooking skills were better than his own, and not by little. Then he had searched for him, curious to see what the god was doing and at the same time feeling the need to distract himself._

_He had found him in the living room, sitting on the couch with a tome on his legs, a dozen of other tomes all around him and scattered on the floor, and his forehead wrinkled in concentration or maybe disappointment._

“ _So, which evil plan are we going to dedicate ourselves to, this morning?”_

_For a moment he had thought he wouldn't receive any answers, but god's lips had showed a tiny smile, even if his eyes hadn't diverted from the book._

“ _Did you decide to become my ally, Stark?”_

_Tony had shrugged._

“ _I'm bored, you know.”_

And you are terrific at earning my sympathies to you, especially when I'm tied to the bed, vulnerable, with your mouth on me and your fingers stealing my breath.

_Given the deeper smile, Loki had to guess what was inside his mind._

_Tony had grumbled something unintelligible, because he hadn't wanted to analyze that unexpected declaration of alliance, even if he wouldn't mind setting the bases for a common plan against the upcoming alien threat._

_Regarding that, they could be allies._

_Allies who had found a pleasant and not very conventional way to spend time and to relax enough so that they could sleep without having nightmares._

_He had suppressed a shiver at the thought of the night before._

_There were red circles around his wrists, similar to the marks he used to have under Red Skull, but the sting he proved when he touched the red portion of his skin now only reminded him of Loki above him, of the god's mouth on his skin, the green of his eyes burning him, staring at his face and at his body like Loki wanted to impress in his mind every inch of what Tony Stark was._

_Diverting his eyes from the marks on his wrists had been more difficult than he expected._

“ _You could give me something to play with. Like some tools, a computer, a laboratory.”_

Or a bed and some god-proof chains, that possibly are able to leave on your skin the same marks you've left on me.

_Somehow, he had been sure that the god would appreciate to have some sex again and that he was still perceiving his thoughts. The shadow of the smile, though, had disappeared._

“ _Now I do not have time to play with you.”_

 

Loki hadn't looked at him anymore, nor had he replied to his comment, showing an increasing turmoil minute after minute.

Tony massaged his sore wrist without stopping staring at him. After a while, the god made a grimace, like he had just made a choice, but not one of his liking.

“They will be here soon.”

Tony stood up abruptly.

“Who?”

“Your shield brothers. I feel Thor coming closer.”

All the peace he had felt until that moment disappeared with those words, leaving an icy grip on his stomach in its stead. It was too sudden, too far from his control. It should have been him the one who freed himself and who decided how to return to his teammates. Not the damsel in distress who was saved and lost the possibility to prove that she could save herself without help.

He searched for the god's gaze.

“What are your intentions?”

Instead of receiving an answer, he found one of his arms caught in an iron grip and then reality all around him dissolved in a blur of colors, leaving him gasping when his lungs became so compressed that they didn't contain air anymore, while his blood seemed to stop and then to flow backwards, and he felt like he was trapped in a skin too tight. He had already felt that sensation once, that day that seemed it belonged to another life. When Loki had saved him from Schmidt's cell and had teleported him into his house.

He breathed deeply, fighting against the nausea, and as soon as he found a firm surface under his feet he stumbled, regaining the contact with all of his perceptions that had disappeared during the long seconds the spell had lasted.

It took him a few seconds to realize he was in the open, with wind lashed at his face, and that if he hadn't fallen down it was only because the god was still holding his arm.

He took another deep breath, then he straightened his back and looked around him.

New York was at his feet. Literally at his feet, since he was on the roof of the high building that had been his prison.

He went closer to the edge, until he could catch sight of some pedestrians and a few cars, but there wasn't anything that hinted to an upcoming fight. There weren't any alarms, or policemen, or the rest of his team.

He took a couple of safe steps back.

“Why here? Do you want to fight against my team?”

But Loki was still weakened from the fight against the six fingered bastard and Tony feared a battle that, whatever the outcome would be, would only have an unwanted end.

“I have no interest in fighting against them, this day,” the god replied, staring in front of himself.

Tony reached his side, looking at his same direction, but his eyes only met clear sky.

He shifted his gaze towards his own hands, his fingers tingling with the need to close around something. A weapon, the gloves of his suit, the reassuring feeling of power pulsing in his palm, his suit all around him ready to fire, what could allow him to fly without falling, to make his destiny instead of remaining at the god's mercy or waiting for an unwanted rescue team to come for him.

He needed something that could push away the feeling of approaching an ending that he wouldn't like.

“And what do you want to do, then?”

Loki grabbed him from the collar of his sweater and his green eyes showed the same possessive desire and craving that had accompanied the first time they had fucked in a room full of enemies' corpses.

“Come with me.”

He had asked him for real, with his lips a breath away from Tony's. It was maybe the first time that the god was granting him a choice, instead of pronouncing a simple order or forcing him to obey without any efforts. Despite everything, Tony felt really tempted to accept, to reach for his mouth, to let the god take him away from his old life, from the encounter with friends and teammates that still didn't know what faults he was guilty of, take him away from a house where there wouldn't be a former enemy capable of giving him that surprising and pleasant sensation of being someone precious.

To place his hand on the god's armor was the most difficult thing he had done in the last few days.

“One tempting offer, Bonnie, but I can't accept it,” he murmured, with the shadow of a smile.

The green in the god's eyes became a storm, gloomy and enraged and full of another emotion that Tony knew so well he recognized it with a stab of pain beneath his Reactor. After what he had discovered about Loki, to be rejected once again must have been more painful, for the god, than Tony himself could imagine.

It was only one moment, before Loki pulled back abruptly, leaving his sweater to place a wall of air between them. Then he smiled, and it was like his lips had drawn a wound on his face.

“Still with your foolish illusions to be a hero.”

_No, he wasn't one, and maybe he had never been, but he could pretend. They could both pretend._

“You come with me. I can put a good word for you. And come on, Fury's reaction in finding you in my tower would be hilarious.”

A glimpse of surprise crossed the god's stare, before his expression hardened again.

“You and your Director would be glad to imprison me again.”

“Like I really thought I could imprison you, even if I wanted to try. And I don't want to anyway.” Tony looked at him, swallowing down all the _Rock of Ages_ , the _Reindeer Games_ and the half dozen names that were tempting his tongue. “I want you as an ally, Loki. As a teammate.”

Without listening to the ironic part of himself that was mocking him because of the futility of that gesture, he lifted his arm, offering his hand to the god.

“With my science and your magic, we can do it.”

The god stared at his hand with a grimace, before meeting his eyes again.

“And that is why you should come with me. I do not need to have _them_ in my way.” The grimace became a sharpen smile. “But, now that I am thinking about it, I do not need you either.”

And then he pushed him down the roof and Tony found himself falling down, this time without his suit to save him.


	84. Chapter 82: Harder and harder to breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit, I still feel guilty about the ending of my last chapter. I hope this chapter will make up for it, because this time? No cliffhangers at all XD Again, it's an unbetaed chapter, still hope it's readable enough.
> 
> Thank you as always for your kind comments and for the kudos! Enjoy your reading.

**Chapter 82: Harder and harder to breathe**

 

_The cold air against his face, two green eyes full of rage that weren't able to hide the hurt underneath, the awareness of having lost everything, with a simple refusal, and that it wasn't fair, he shouldn't have felt so guilty, but nothing would matter anymore when all his thoughts would be shattered by the impact with the ground beneath him._

 

He woke up abruptly, with his breathing reduced to strangled pants.

“Mister Stark, are you all right?”

Tony shivered. He held his breath until his lungs felt like they were exploding and only then he allowed them to be filled with air again.

“What time is it, Jarvis?”

“A quarter past four of Friday morning. You have slept for seven hours and nine minutes, but given your current condition I suggest you to have some more rest.”

“No, I've slept enough.”

His voice was rough, his throat ached, like it always happened when he dreamed about Afghanistan or Red Skull or some kind of torture, but this time he hadn't had the familiar nightmares that used to torture him during his sleep. He didn't know whether to consider it an improvement or a worsening.

A dim light appeared without him needing to ask.

“The other Avengers are still sleeping.” Jarvis hesitated for one moment. “Do you want me to call Miss Potts?”

“No, thank you, Jarv.”

Tony passed one hand on his forehead, meeting wrinkles and cold sweat.

He only had to close his eyes to feel himself falling again, a free fall to his own death, the air hitting his clothes and face, an acceleration of nine-point-eight meter per second, and a part of his mind had already counted three seconds and a half and was still counting while the adrenalin was slowing time down and he was still feeling on his chest the hand that had pushed him down the roof, a burning contact right where the Reactor was, which was digging into his flesh where he already had the scars of another hole.

Part of him felt like he was still falling and had never escaped death another time.

“ _I do not need you either.”_

And while he was falling, he hadn't been able to avoid staring at the god, at his enraged eyes, that green that was burning with the same brightness when Loki had been above him, naked and smirking and with his expression full of desire and want to possess.

Loki had felt betrayed and Tony had fallen to his death with not even an insult to throw at him, because that reaction had frozen his mind.

He stood up with the vain hope of leaving the thought of the god on the bed, together with the sweated blanket that were piled up in a corner of the mattress.

“How much time has it been since my arrival, Jarvis?”

“Fourteen hours and forty-seven minutes.”

More than fourteen hours since the moment Thor had caught him barely two seconds before his body became a bloodstained mark on the street. Almost fifteen hours since he had gained his freedom back, since he had seen his teammates again, since he had found himself pressing his face against familiar red hair.

Almost fifteen hours since he had returned where he hadn't wanted to return at all.

 

_At his arrival to the Tower, to what had been his home for years and at the same time the fortress he could defy the world from, the first thought that crossed his mind was that he would desperately want to run away and hide in some isolated place._

_Even after Thor gave him back some of his dignity, putting him down as soon as he reached the attic, Tony could only feel that insistent, urgent need to run away._

_Away from the relieved faces that were all around him, away from Pepper, who had thrown herself at him in a whirl of red hair, shivering body and tears that he didn't deserve. Away from Natasha's detached gaze that was trying to psychoanalyze him from afar, away from Thor, who had already started apologizing for faults that weren't even his and kept calling Loki his brother even while swearing to punish him with death for whatever wrongs he had done to Tony; away from Clint, who was greeting him with joyful irony and offenses that weren't able to hide his relief._

_The only one who wasn't standing was Steve, and his sunken face and the fact that he was sitting on the couch were enough to give away his wounded condition. His attention, however, was all focused on Tony anyway, like the intensity of his stare could compensate for the distance._

_Bruce wasn't there, but Tony had caught a glimpse of the Hulk while experiencing the not very pleasant feeling of flying in Thor's arms, and his friend was probably looking for some clothes after having put his green alter ego to sleep, by now._

_His teammates._

_They were all there, more or less hurt, but alive. And Tony wanted to put a wall of steel, of vibranium, between him and their eyes._

“ _So, where's the party?” he asked, adopting his usual smile as his first and most instinctive defense._

_Steve almost made an attempt to stand up, a movement that caught Tony's attention, and he immediately noticed the bandages that were covering the lower half of his torso, through the half opened gown that the Captain was wearing._

“ _Glad to see you still in one piece, Tony. How are you feeling?” Steve's eyes studied him from head to toe, and there was worry in them, but relief too. “I know it's not the right question, but are you hurt? I mean, it would reassure us to know that you're not hiding some wounds, at least until a medic could take a look at you. Pepper, you know who to call, right?”_

_Tony's smile froze on his lips._

“ _Stop right there. I'm not the one who needs medical attention, that would be you guys.”_

_There were bruises on Clint's face. Nothing to worry about or out of ordinary, but Natasha had one of her arms bandaged, Steve clearly had suffered a grave wound on his belly and even Thor was wounded, showing how all of them had paid a price when Tony had managed to steal some information from the god._

“ _And in fact we have had it,” Steve replied._

_Tony shrugged._

“ _Then I can't see the problem.”_

“ _The problem is that you've been a prisoner for more than a month,” Clint burst out._

“ _And yet, here I am, all in one piece and in top form, if you let me order a couple of cheeseburgers.”_

“ _You've been in Schmidt's hands first and in Loki's later,” Natasha abruptly said, chilling his chest with a simple sentence._

_Tony struggled to ignore the grip on his stomach, but his smile had already faded and he wasn't fast enough to hide how much that words had hit him._

_He tried to swallow and find his voice again._

“ _It hasn't been pleasant, okay? With Schmidt, I mean. He surely isn't in the topten of my favorite kidnappers, but now it doesn't matter anymore. I survived.”_

_And Schmidt was dead. He would have liked to see his body, to touch his cold skin for full certainty, but he was dead. Loki had told him so and that was enough._

_Pepper's gaze, eyes too wide and too worried, searched for his own._

“ _And with Loki?”_

_Loki had looked at him in the same way he had watched Obadiah during their fight. Resentment, rage and desperation, the reflection of something Tony had thought precious but had been lost forever. And the god had pushed him down a building, to truly kill him, after having risked his own life to save Tony's, after having claimed Tony as his._

_He shrugged, even if he tasted ashes in his mouth._

“ _I'm fine. Rock of Ages found my company so enjoyable and irresistible that fell desperately in love with me. He didn't lift a finger on me, except the whole pushing me down the building, which seems like a habit with him, by now. I had almost convinced him to surrender, before you arrived.”_

“ _Before we prevent your smashing your skull on the street, you mean.”_

_Tony met Natasha's hard eyes without any hesitations._

“ _That's your way to see it.” He gave a pat on Thor's shoulder and it was like hitting a block of marble. “By the way, nice catch, Conan, but don't feel bad if I say that being carried bridal style by you has been one of the creepiest experiences of my entire life and I ask you to never talk about it again.”_

_Behind him, Clint snorted._

“ _You wish.”_

“ _Careful, Grumpy Bird. I remind you that I still have the recording of the night when you got so drunk that you decided to climb my bookcase. Horizontally.”_

_Clint's annoyed reply was interrupted by a movement from the couch. Wheezing and trembling slightly, Steve had stood up, showing a weakness that was almost out of place for a man who had always seemed impossible to truly wound._

“ _Tony.”_

_He stopped him with a gesture of his hand._

“ _Alt, Capsicle. You're hurt and tired, and I'm still not ready for a group hug.” He looked at each of them in turn, one after another, forcing himself to meet every one of their gazes. “I need some calm, now. Solitude. Jarvis. Leave me in my lab for three of four days, and then I'll be ready to face your suffocating love. And don't look at me that way, Nat, you know perfectly well I can't be controlled by our Harry Potter, so it's me, totally me, irresistible me.” Before the grimace that had appeared on Pepper's face was put into words, or that Steve decided to answer back, he reached for the elevator. “Jarv, are you still here or did you find another job?”_

“ _I would never dare, sir, you know you have always been my favorite employer. Welcome home, Mister Stark. I am glad to see you again.”_

_Tony had to hide a smile, and the heavy feeling in his chest alleviated a little. If only he could remain alone with Jarvis and no one else, only with a friendly voice that would never judge him, someone that didn't need any explanation..._

“ _And I'm glad to be back. I missed you, I have a couple of projects I want to discuss with you as soon as possible.”_

“ _I'm always ready to help.”_

_Clint stepped forward with a grimace._

“ _You're unbelievable. You gave Jarvis a more enthusiastic greeting than the one you gave us all.”_

“ _That's because you aren't interesting enough as interlocutors. Except for Bruce and Pepper, of course.”_

“ _Now that we've finished with the pleasantries, we have an ex prisoner that has just been rescued who needs medical attention.”_

_The annoyingly familiar voice made Tony turn to his right and he immediately met a man that had been so still and capable of blending in the surroundings that he hadn't even noticed him before, among the several faces that were all around him._

_He pointed his finger towards Fury, taking notice of his unusual shabby appearances._

“ _What is he doing here? I leave for a few weeks of imprisonment and you immediately take advantage to befriend the enemy and subvert my defensive protocols?” He looked around himself faking a painful disappointment. “I expected better from you, Pep.”_

_She tried a guilty smile._

“ _I had to compromise, but I have a lot to tell you.”_

_The happiness for his return still hadn't left her eyes. To Tony, it was impossible to bear._

_He tried to swallow the knot in his throat, while something was hurting deeply under his Reactor._

“ _You'll have to tell me everything after I receive my cheeseburger.”_

_Someone snorted before Pepper could answer, then Fury stepped towards him._

“ _I have a medical team in stand by not far from here. I can have it in the Tower in less then twelve minutes.”_

_Pepper came between them before Tony himself could formulate a negative, irritating enough answer._

“ _No way in hell,” she hissed, and Tony was surprised to hear such venom in her voice._

_There was a silent fight between her and Fury's gaze, before the spy stepped back with a grimace, returning to stand against the wall. It was a totally unexpected surrender and Tony watched it with suspicious eyes._

_There had to have happened a lot more than a simple fight against Loki, during the time he had been away._

_Ignoring the voices all around the room that were debating on which doctor would be better to visit him, Tony reached the elevator._

_He couldn't stand it anymore, he didn't even have the energy to use irony as a shield._

“ _Look, I'm not so stoic that I would hide bleeding wounds without even having drunk some coffee. And, as I already told you, I'm fine. But if you really care, Jarvis can scan me and analyze my condition, which he can do better than any other doctors.”_

“ _You're flattering me, Mister Stark.”_

“ _See? Jarv agrees. If you want to join me, and that counts only for Pepper and Bruce when he'll be there, I'll be in my lab.”_

_And then he disappeared without waiting for an answer._


	85. Chapter 83: Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new, short chapter this time, unbetaed again, so sorry in advance for the mistakes that will be there. Thanks a lot for your last feedbacks, and just have a little patience: Loki will be back in some way or another. He only has to let some time pass and to be awaited, we all now what a divah he is!

**Chapter 83: Broken**

 

_It took more or less twenty minutes, before Tony could stand up and begin redressing himself. The air was too cold for his tastes, since he had to remain in boxers for the scan, and he shivered slightly refusing to look at anyone._

_He was in the medical part of his lab, with Pepper at his side and Clint and Natasha just outside the room, watching him through the glass door. Steve had remained in the common area with Fury and Thor, but Tony had had to allow a communication between them through Jarvis to calm him down and prevent the wounded fool to follow them to the lab._

_He put on his pants and then the t-shirt, without looking at the red marks on his wrists. It would be clear to anyone that they had been caused by chains or some similar kind of bindings, but luckily for him no one could ever guess in which context he had gotten them._

_The imprints of the god's fingers on his hips didn't stand out as much and his boxers had covered them for the most part. What remained were only some old bruises, some new scars and nothing too relevant, even if he had heard Pepper's breathing breaking with a strangled sound when he had begun taking off his clothes._

_He opened the door to allow the two Avengers in, now that he wasn't completely vulnerable anymore._

“ _So, Jarvis? This is the moment when you say 'you are in perfect shape, sir'.”_

“ _Even if your words are not really precise, for the general meaning I have to agree with you. I didn't find any broken bones or wounds which need immediate care.”_

_At his side, Tony heard Pepper breathe in relief._

“ _And what about the superficial wounds?” Natasha asked. Her eyes had studied him too, inch after inch, but without showing any emotions. Even now her face was unreadable, a face belonging more to a spy than to a teammate._

_Tony realized that he found her gaze easier to bear than Pepper's worried one._

“ _Mister Stark's body shows several bruises, and old whipping wounds and burns that are almost healed by now. He lost some weight and judging from the bruises on his neck someone tried to strangle him. Quite recently, I would say.”_

_Clint snorted._

“ _I knew it was you the one who drove the psychopathic asshole out of his mind. Even Loki can't stand living with you.”_

“ _Shut up, Cupid. I remind you that I've just been back from being a mistreated prisoner. Twice. You should give me the red carpet treatment.”_

“ _If I can, Mister Stark, you seem better now than after some past fights against Loki. Or after the times you experimented some new inventions on yourself without listening to my suggestions.”_

“ _You're a traitor.”_

“ _I'm truly sorry. Can I suggest you a light meal, some pain killers and a dozen hours of uninterrupted sleep? There's an ointment in the medikit for your bruises.”_

_Tony grimaced._

“ _Cheeseburgers, Jarvis. It's the only kind of food I'm willing to eat.”_

“ _I've already ordered them. The delivery should be here in ten minutes.”_

“ _Good boy, that's how I want you.”_

_Next to him, Pepper was trying to meet his gaze with a stubbornness that only made him want to run away even more. But there were wrinkles on her forehead and around her mouth, signs of exhaustion and sadness, and the dark circles under her eyes were too evident for a woman who had always seemed free from any human weakness like the need of sleeping._

“ _You heard that? I told you I'm fine,” he told her, attempting a smile._

“ _Luckily.” The smile Pepper send him back disappeared soon after. “What do you need, Tony?” she murmured, in a voice so low that only him could hear her words._

“ _Nothing, really. I just need to rest a little.”_

_She hesitated before giving him a nod._

“ _You know that I'm here, right? You can call me whenever you want.”_

“ _I know. And now, go to sleep. It seems like, with my absence, you did a lot of overtime.”_

_Again Pepper showed him a tiny smile._

“ _I'll ask for a couple of weeks of extra holidays, as soon as you'll be back doing your job.”_

_They had almost reached the elevator when Natasha appeared in front of him._

_Despite everything, his eyes couldn't avoid returning to her bandaged arm. She was hurt, she had been wounded because of him. As most part of his team._

_He immediately felt Pepper tensing and he decided to anticipate her, showing Natasha the best of his shit eating grins._

“ _What? Do you need to look at the color of my eyes?”_

_He opened them wide, but the assassin only placed one hand on his shoulder, without stopping looking at him like he was a target, or a mystery she was still trying to solve._

“ _You know you'll have to tell me everything,” she said, her voice unusually kind and soft. “But for now, just have a good night of rest.”_

“ _Careful, Romanoff. If you keep being so mushy when I'm around, I could think you've a weakness for me.”_

_Natasha shrugged, but her lips curved a little._

“ _It's simply my survival instinct. Without you and your cheesy jokes, Clint convinced himself he was funny.”_

“ _Hey!” the archer protested, but no one minded him while they were all entering the elevator._

_Tony half listened him arguing with Natasha, half thought about the reassuring solitude of his own room._

_When the elevator stopped, instead of Fury waiting for him together with Steve and Thor, there was Bruce. A Bruce wearing only his pants, with exhausted eyes and a warm smile that hurt him more than a punch from the Hulk._

“ _Doctor Banner. I was just wondering when my favorite colleague would show up, I missed our conversations.”_

_Without any forewarning, Bruce hugged him so tightly that Tony almost couldn't breathe. It lasted only one moment, one moment of great surprise, since Bruce had always shied away from hugs and physical touches, then he pulled back and rearranged his glasses at the right angle with an embarrassed expression._

“ _Sorry, it seems like the Other Guy isn't totally asleep, yet. You know, he was worried too.”_

“ _I'm always ready to accept a hug from my science friend. Or from my green friend, if that's the case.” He gave a pat on Bruce's shoulder before looking around. “So, where's my cheeseburger?”_

 

Now the cheeseburger he had eaten felt too heavy in his stomach.

He looked out of the window, the light of a sleeping New York, the dark sky, the stillness of the night, and, despite his will, his mind couldn't avoid running to the god that had saved him and had made him fall and had dug inside his chest a second hole next to the Reactor.

He turned around abruptly and searched for some pants and a t-shirt inside his wardrobe – there was only half of them in comparison to what should have been there, who knew if a visit to his old prison would allow him to recover the rest of his clothes – and put them on.

“Jarvis, what about working together again, after all this time?”

“It would be a pleasure, sir.”

“Make some coffee, then.” He started walking towards the elevator. “We have an anti-magic device to build.”


	86. Chapter 84: Burning from the inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating in a rush since I'm going abroad for a few days. I don't know when I'll be able to update again, but I'll try to do it before a week has passed. In the meanwhile, enjoy the weekend and thank you so much for your comments and kudos and bookmarks until now. Also, unbetaed chapter again, sorry XD

**Chapter 84: Burning from the inside**

 

“Mister Stark, Miss Potts is asking if she can come into the lab.”

“What time is it, Jarvis?”

“It's seventeen past eight.”

Tony passed one hand on his sweaty forehead before standing up.

He had spent almost four hours working on his anti-magic prototype, without pauses. It wasn't anything in comparison to the whole days he used to spend there in the past, but after several weeks without his lab, or any labs at all, those four hours felt like they had lasted one or two days. He had missed putting components and ideas together, working with his hands and his brain, discussing the new project with Jarvis. It was soothing, somehow. He didn't truly want to break that moment of peace.

“Let her in,” he finally said.

He knew he couldn't postpone a meeting with her, not for long. At least, accepting her visit down there would lessen her worry and maybe she wouldn't be so concern about him that she would stay around as much as possible.

He only needed to wait for a couple of minutes before the elevator's door opened and she appeared, already fully dressed and impeccable, even if the dark circles around her eyes where still as present as the day before.

“I should have imagined you would come hiding in here, as soon as you were back,” Pepper greeted him with a smile.

Tony shrugged.

“You know me.” He lowered his eyes to the blueprints he had worked on until that moment, in the most natural way he had found to avoid her gaze. “Nothing better than a good vengeance plan to cheer me up.”

“What are you building?”

“An anti-magic device. So that the little shit with the horns will have a big surprise next time he'll try to push me down a building.”

Pepper stepped closer, her eyes focused on the blue holograms that showed his progress, in particular the blueprints belonging to the new version of his Reactor he had designed that morning. It would have the same specifics the one inside his chest had, but instead of collecting the energy in a cable, the new one would irradiate it in every direction and keeping the flux stable and continuous was proving to be a good challenge.

“It reminds me of your Reactor.”

“Because that's what it is, at least partially. It seems that the new element I created, apart from saving my life, is a sort of divine Kryptonite for our dear Reindeer Games, since it blocks his magic.”

Pepper looked at him with wide eyes.

“You're saying you're immune to his powers?”

“Not exactly.” Tony had to suppress the urge to massage his wrists, where he still carried the marks of the chains. “Let's say that my Reactor is. Sadly the rest of my body isn't.” He froze as soon as he noticed a shadow crossing Pepper's gaze. “What?”

She looked at the holograms for one moment, before meeting his eyes again.

“If you know it, it means you experienced it first hand. You were hurt by his magic,” she said, and it wasn't a question.

Tony shrugged again.

“Since I was there, I thought it would be fine to experiment a little. At least now I know that if I want to kick his ass I must create something that blocks his magic completely.”

Pepper shook her head.

“You're unbelievable,” she said, with a fondness so palpable, despite her exasperation, that Tony felt something in his chest tightening.

“I'm simply brilliant.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips.

“Sometimes you really are. And how is your project going?”

“Quite well, but without a source of magic to experiment on it's like walking in the dark and hoping to not hit anything.”

“You could always ask Thor for some help.”

“Thor? You mean the thunder god who fried the electric system of his whole floor twice? I bet Loki would do less damages if I allowed him in here. And I seriously doubt that Thor's powers are the same as his psychopathic brother's.”

The memories of the day they met crossed his mind, that night of more than an year before, when Tony himself felt like he was another person. The air so electric that he had had goosebumps, the thunder that had hit him fully in the chest, his suit going in overload, without the Reactor interfering in the slightest. No, Loki's power were something different.

With a wave of his hand, he made the holograms disappear and turned to completely face Pepper.

“Jarvis told me everything that happened while I was away. Skynet protocol, uh? And I thought that I was the thorn in Fury's side.”

“We only tried to keep up your fame during your absence, sir.”

Pepper shook her head but she was still smiling.

“It seems like in the end, my conscience was corrupted by some bad companies.”

“Which is something I took all the credit for. How's the situation with Fury?”.

“A precarious truce. Until we have a common enemy, I thought it would be better to cooperate, but now that you're back you're the one in charge.”

Tony smiled.

“Come on, Pepper, we both know you're the one who wears the pants in this company. Even when you wear a dress and seven inch heels. I trust you and the way you're dealing with Fury.”

For a moment, she seemed like she was about to protest, but then she nodded.

“Okay, then for now the Avengers will still work together with the S.H.I.E.L.D., at least officially. Natasha is the person in the Tower who is the closest to Fury, even if until now she has been on our side. Clint, on the other hand, is still mad at him.”

Tony returned serious.

“Because of what happened with Coulson, right?” He shook his head, because even after whole hours had passed since Jarvis told him everything, he could still feel the resentment and the relief at the discovery that he had been manipulated, that all of them had been manipulated with a fake death. “That bastard... I should have known that he would never die so easily.”

Or that Loki wouldn't kill him, since the god didn't truly want to conquer the Earth, and now he had lost another reason to hate him. The attempt to kill him was enough, though, and Tony grimaced, rejecting the memory of Loki's hurt eyes that stared at him, only one second before the bastard pushed him down the roof.

“Exactly. For Clint, it was like a betrayal and frankly I understand him.”

Tony looked at her like he was realizing only in that moment what Coulson had been to her. They all had suffered for his death, when they had still been convinced it had really happened. They had suffered, they had become angry, they had formed a team to exact vengeance. But Pepper had been Coulson's friend, more than Tony had ever been. She had known about the cellist, she had been used to call him by his name.

“I'm sorry, Pep,” he murmured.

She stopped him with her hand.

“It's okay, next time I'll know better than to trust a spy. Anyway, Thor and Steve are more with the Avengers than with the S.H.I.E.L.D., and Fury knows it. I don't think we should worry about him, at least in the immediate future.”

“Me neither, but it's better to keep our eyes open. Jarvis?”

“I'm monitoring S.H.I.E.L.D.'s activities like Miss Potts and you ordered me. At the first sign of hostility, I'm going to warn you immediately.”

Tony nodded.

“Good. Then we'll be able to focus on the welcome for the new alien villain without other things to worry about.”

He received a surprised glance.

“Jarvis told you?”

“Actually I had already received the news firsthand. Rock of Ages was particularly anxious about that.” He hesitated for one moment, before recovering his usual irony as his defense. “Before he pushed me down the roof, we were sort of bargaining an alliance.”

“You _what_?”

“A truce against a common enemy? A non-aggression pact?”

“With Loki?!”

“He's powerful and he's an asshole, which is a good thing if he's on your side. He would be a good ally, since this Thanos seems so dangerous.” He shrugged. “But it doesn't matter anymore, now. We'll deal with the evil alien by ourselves, like we have always done.”

“This time you won't be alone. And there won't be only New York either. Fury was talking about a global alliance, or at least that's what he tried to explain to the Council.”

“The Council will better keep his hands out of this,” he growled, with a harder voice than he wanted.

He had only needed a few details from Jarvis to realize who had been behind the attempt to imprison Bruce and intimidate Pepper.

The understanding in her eyes made him realize that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Since you returned, the Council has stepped back. For now, an atmosphere of political instability would damage everyone, but with Jarvis keeping everything under control we should always be one step ahead.”

“Perfect, then everything is settled. Is there anything else I have to do?” He looked at her from head to toe. “No documents to sign, boring meetings to attend to, or some similar annoying task to complete?”

Pepper smiled at him.

“Tony, I learned how to fake your signature after you skipped your thirteenth meeting in a row. You even sent me a basket of fruit as a sign of your gratitude when I told you.” She sighed. “But we have a conference in a couple of days, about your return. I can take care of it.”

“I'll be there.”

The smile was replaced by a worried expression.

“Are you sure?”

“I'm not hurt, Pepper, I'm fine. I only need some time by myself.”

She bit her lip but then she nodded.

“I'll let you know if there are some news, then.” For a moment she seemed about to add something, to come closer and maybe say one of those intolerable sentences that Tony knew he didn't deserve and that could never hear without feeling the hole in his chest opening again. Instead, her face hardened. “And I'll keep Fury away from Bruce.”

Tony looked at her with her same gaze.

“Better if he does.”

“I'll leave you to your work, then. Call me if you need anything.”

“Of course.”

It was too sudden for Tony to avoid it and soft lips brushed against his cheek without him being able to react, leaving a faint trace of warmth and lipstick behind. When the sting against his Reactor subsided enough to let him breathe, she had already turned to leave.

“Pepper,” he called her when she was half way to he elevator. She was the woman he loved the most in the entire world, a friend that was also his conscience and the most trustworthy support he could hope for, even knowing that he had no right to ask her for it, even while he was finding painful every second spent in her company.

He closed his fingers into fists, searching for her eyes when she came in front of him again. “Until Thanos arrives, we could be allies. But once that alien war will be over, I want to destroy both Fury and the Council. What do you think?”

Pepper placed one hand on his, before smiling.

“I would never expected anything less from you.”


	87. Chapter 85: Visiting day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long and unbetaed chapter, sorry, I hope it's not too bad^^" Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, I love you, guys!
> 
> I really wanted to update sooner, but between the trip (it went very well, thank you!) first and a comicon later (second time in cosplay, yeah!) I practically had no time at all to translate this chapter during the last week. Now that I'm sick, though, I'm planning on spending all my free time writing and translating, so next update should arrive in a week, if I can sooner.
> 
> Please, let me know if it's okay for me to continue with unbetaed chapters and if you prefer longer chapters or quicker updates, now that the story is almost over and that I can organize myself better with the translation.
> 
> Thank you again for your support. Enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 85: Visiting day**

 

“Miss Romanoff is asking to see you.”

“Tell her it's impossible for at least the next ten hours. It's a matter of national security.”

“I fear it won't be enough to persuade her to desist.”

“I know.” He swore loudly when the blowtorch passed too close to his index finger, reminding him that maybe Pepper, Bruce and practically everyone that had ever watched him working on one of his inventions hadn't been completely wrong when they had suggested him to use some protections, like gloves and protective glasses. “But it will annoy her at least a little. And she wouldn't like it if I made it easy for her.”

He looked at the watch, putting his burnt finger into his mouth. A quarter past five.

He had been waiting for Natasha's arrival to interrogate him since that morning, but the Widow had surely taken her time.

“Miss Romanoff is trying to force her way into the elevator,” Jarvis warned him.

Tony smiled.

“She should know better than to mess with you. She has no hopes.”

“Indeed, but I have to warn you that if Miss Romanoff uses the gun she has just drawn, I won't be able to prevent her from damaging your properties”

Tony's smile disappeared in a serious expression.

“I should build you a body. What do you say about that, Jarv? So you could take care of everything that annoys me.”

“I think I would find it... restricting. And in this way you would be able to avoid your responsibilities more than you already do, Sir.”

“You know me too well.”

He liked the idea, though. Building Jarvis a body, making him more human than he had already become, giving a face to the voice that had been part of his life for many years by now and that was one of his best friends. Despite Jarvis' words, he had perceived a curios hint in his voice and couldn't get out of his head the impression that probably the AI wouldn't mind giving it a try.

“Once I'll finish this anti-horned bitches device, we'll talk about it again.”

“As you wish.”

For a moment, there was only silence and Tony entertained himself with the thought of giving Jarvis the body of a Terminator, so that he would be able to enjoy Fury and Steve's reactions. Pepper would appreciate it for sure.

“Miss Romanoff is still threatening the elevator with her gun. Should I say something to her?”

Tony sighed.

“Tell her that I'll be in the common area in twenty minutes.”

He started cleaning the mess on the desks, taking the frailest tools away from Dum-E's claws. The little robot hadn't stopped tailing him since his return to the lab, not even for one moment, and it had spent the whole day trying to help, despite Tony's threats.

He was tired to the bones when he forced himself to reach the elevator. At least Natasha wouldn't pity him and wouldn't look at him with worried eyes, the way all his other teammates had done. He only needed to be cautious and to weigh every word, given that she was a spy whose ability was to read people's mind with the same ease he annoyed who was around him.

“Is there anyone else waiting in line to admire my wonderful self, Jarvis?” he asked, with only half irony, given the day spent having one visitor after another.

He had received so many of them that he almost hadn't been able to work on his prototype.

 

_Bruce was the first._

_He came one hour and a half after Pepper had left, making sure that his presence wouldn't bother Tony before entering the lab._

“ _I missed coming down here.”_

_Tony looked at him with an arched eyebrow and a glimpse of surprise, while he was divided between the fondness for his best friend and the need to be alone, with no worried eyes and no attempted smiles, all things he didn't deserve._

“ _Jarvis, don't tell me that during my absence you started a turf war against my intellectual soulmate.”_

“ _I would never do that, Sir. Doctor Banner is one of my favorite residents in the Tower.”_

_Bruce smiled._

“ _Thanks, Jarvis. And no, Tony, he has nothing to do with it. It's just that I didn't come here often, without you. Also, we were too busy looking for you and I realized it late how to trace Loki.”_

“ _I wouldn't say late. After all, I was just about to show the first withdrawal symptoms for the lack of coffee.”_

_For a moment he shivered at the thought of his teammates arriving sooner, when he was still the mute and broken shadow of himself._

_Bruce gave him another smile, before returning serious and diverting his gaze. He took off his glasses to clean them with the hem of his sweater without looking at him anymore._

“ _I... I found the documents you had prepared for me. I guess Jarvis already told you that.” He breathed deeply, then he met his eyes again. “I'm sorry, Tony. Believe me, I had no intentions of abandoning you, but I was losing control.”_

“ _You don't have to apologize, it was the right choice. What prevented you from escaping? Fury?”_

_Bruce shook his head._

“ _Loki showed a perfect timing. He attacked some civilians right when I was about to disappear. I'm glad I didn't do it.”_

_The meaning of those words, that Bruce had preferred trying to find him than escaping, caused Tony's chest to clench painfully._

“ _You can go even now. You know that, right? My offer doesn't expire with my return, even if I can assure you that it won't be much left of Fury, once I'll show him what happens to the fools who threaten Pepper and the people I like.”_

“ _I have no reasons to leave now that we are all here. But I couldn't remain silent after what Jarvis showed me.” Bruce's eyes were on his again, and they were too much to bear. “Thank you, Tony. Nobody has ever done so much for me.”_

“ _You're not becoming all mushy, now, are you?” Despite Tony's intention, his voice faltered, because he had no right to be thanked, he shouldn't have been looked in such way, with affection and gratitude. And yet, it seemed like he had been able to get at least one thing right. He swallowed with difficulty through the knot in his throat, then he gave Bruce a pat on his shoulder, forcing himself to smile. “I could never leave my lab-mate in danger. Everyone would have done the same.”_

“ _No, Tony. Nobody else would have thought of it.” Bruce attempted to smile back, his body and expression relaxed again, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “You always try to appear worse than you really are, but it's not so easy to fool the people who truly know you.”_

_And Tony wanted to say that it wasn't true, that Bruce had to stop considering him a good person, to look at him like he was a hero, because he had never been one, but the words got stuck in his throat while his eyes began to burn and his damaged heart seemed incapable of doing its job, making his chest ache._

_Immediately Bruce was serious again, his eyes worried and too understanding._

“ _How are you Tony? For real.”_

_Tony held his breath until his lungs hurt._

“ _I only need some time to get used to be back and truly realize that I don't have a narcissistic, capricious god as my only company anymore, that's all.”_

_The glance he received as an answer gave him the certainty that he hadn't been believed, not completely, but Bruce only nodded._

“ _What are you building?”_

 

They had been working side by side for almost an hour before Bruce found an excuse to leave, sensing his need to be alone with his thoughts. Tony had thanked him with a smile and the promise to ask for his help in the following days, but his great appreciated solitude had lasted only a short time.

Thor had been the next. He had ambushed him just outside the elevator, when Tony, forced by Jarvis' threats to call Pepper, had decided to take a break from work and eat something.

 

“ _Now it's your turn?”_

_He took some of the leftovers of the Chinese food that was in the fridge and Thor approached him with a tired smile, grabbing a plate and filling it with almost everything, before sitting down in front of him, with cautious movements that showed how he wasn't in perfect shape._

_No wonder Loki was half dead when he had appeared in his living room, given how badly wounded his whole team was._

“ _I am glad to see you safe and sound, Tony Stark.”_

“ _Because of you. I owe you one.”_

_Thor put a whole spring roll into his mouth, still studying him like he feared Tony would keel over and die if he stopped looking._

“ _We are shield brothers, you do not have to thank me.” He took a second spring roll, then his tentative smile disappeared. “I want you to know that I am ready to exact vengeance for any wrongdoings Loki did to you while you where his captive.”_

“ _Like pushing me down the roof?”._

_Only then the god averted his eyes._

“ _For that too. I swear my brother shall not remain unpunished. This time I will take care of him.”_

“ _What do you mean?”_

_Thor sighed, looking at his half empty plate instead of meeting Tony's eyes._

“ _I was wrong when I believed that there was still hope for redemption, for him. So I made a choice.”_

_Tony felt like he had just been hit by a bucket full of freezing water._

“ _Wait a minute! You Asgardian people have already fucked him up enough. After the adoption and the whole 'you belong to a hated race' thing, now you want to add fratricide too, to the list of the most fucked up things to do to your sort of brother?”_

_Thor stared at him with wide eyes._

“ _You... you know?”_

“ _Of course I know. I'm a genius and I spent whole days with your psycho brother, it was difficult not to discover what had made him a psycho in the first place.” He stopped abruptly, wondering why he felt the urge to punch Thor in the face. It hadn't been him the one who raised Loki as an unstable, homicidal god who was full of issues and self-hatred, after all. He breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm down. “I want to make him pay for when he pushed me down the roof, but I'll be the one who does it.”_

“ _And... what about the rest?”_

_Tony shrugged._

“ _That was the worst he did to me.”_

“ _Did he not torture you? But... your wounds?”_

“ _Schmidt.”_

_Thor was still looking astonished, and he was finding him more and more annoying._

“ _What?”_

“ _I did not expect you of all the people to defend my brother.”_

“ _Just say that you didn't expect anyone to defend him in any cases,” Tony retorted, with more anger than he had wanted to show._

_For a moment, Thor seemed like he was about to answer back, but then he lowered his eyes._

“ _You are right.”_

_Tony had to remind to himself of the free fall several times to erase the imagine of a child Loki who was found guilty regardless of the circumstances – and Tony was ready to bet that most of the times the little shit had truly been guilty – without anyone to defend him._

“ _By the way, I'm not defending him. I just don't want you people to think that the Nazi bastard was innocent.”_

_There was a nod._

“ _Thank you for what you told me.”_

“ _That doesn't make your brother any less of an asshole.”_

_Thor smiled and it was like he had just gotten rid of a huge weight from his chest._

“ _I know.”_

 

At least one of them had left the conversation in a lighter mood.

Talking about Loki had made Tony so irritated that he almost hadn't done any progresses when he had returned to his lab. Of course, then there had been another interruption.

 

“ _Kudos to you, Capsicle, I see your skills in technology have improved,” he commented, after Jarvis put him through._

“ _I know how to use a cellphone, Tony.” Even without watching him, Tony knew that Steve had smiled. “So, how are you feeling?”_

“ _So tired of people asking me that, that I'm thinking of making it a drinking game. How about you? I heard you got a foot of metal in your belly. Shouldn't you be in bed, suffering horrifying agony, far away from any cellphones or conversations?”_

 

Apparently not, since not only Steve had laughed to his comment, but had also kept him on the phone for almost twenty minutes. Tony had had to tell him in at least three different ways that he was perfectly fine to make him hang up.

At that point, Tony had bet with Jarvis on the next Avengers that would have come searching for him and how long that would have taken. Jarvis won, when not even an hour later, Clint had come down into the lab.

 

“ _You know, we could create a support group. Like AA, but cooler,” the archer commented, sliding down an inch from his sitting position, so relaxed that he seemed he was almost about to place his feet on the desk._

_Clint had been in his lab for ten minutes and had been sitting down for two, after having poked around, and Tony was already feeling the urge to take all of his inventions and lock them away from him to protect them._

“ _Should I feel offended or is it one of our boy-scout's suggestions to improve our teamwork?” he asked Clint, more nervous than he liked to admit for having allowed someone who wasn't Bruce or Pepper into his lab._

_The archer dismissed his words with a wave of his hand._

“ _No, I meant you and me. The survivors of the bastard we have a score to settle with.” He stopped to look at him with a pensive gaze, then he nodded, like he was granting a huge concession. “I can let you one of his eyes. One for each, what do you think?”_

“ _Thanks for the offer, but I prefer pushing the horned shit down my Tower the first occasion I get, possibly with the Hulk ready to use him as a landing point.”_

“ _Sounds like a good plan.” A smile appeared in Clint's face, before it disappeared in a serious expression that alarmed Tony. “I bet everyone has already lent you their shoulder and ear as support.”_

“ _Exactly,” Tony replied drily, hoping to end that conversation before it really started._

_It was a lost hope, though, since Clint remained serious._

“ _I just want to say that talking can help. Of course, talking with the right person, not with a S.H.I.E.L.D. shrink and certainly not with Cap or Thor.” The archer shrugged, looking at the wall. “It helped me when I talked to Natasha.”_

“ _Why do you all think Loki traumatized me?”_

_This time, Clint's eyes returned to meet his, sharp and alert like he was on the battlefield, and Tony had the impression that they could see too much._

“ _Because you are showing all the symptoms of someone who's been tortured and still has to recover from his trauma.”_

“ _I have no fucking traumas!” Tony burst out before he could stop himself._

_But his heart was hammering against the Reactor, there was a buzz in his ears that didn't let him hear anything else and his hands where stained in blood, and he knew it was still there, that it had never gone away. He closed his hands into fists, looking for a control that seemed to move further and further away from him._

_Clint was still in front of him, his eyes focused on Tony's face with that too serious gaze._

“ _Tony, that bastard can fuck you up. He can fuck with your mind, he can_ fuck your mind _, without even laying a finger on you. I know that.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Even Nat was shaken after she had talked to him those ten minutes in the Helicarrier.”_

_His voice was unusually low and soft and his lips showed a grimace full of bitterness that shouldn't have been there. Clint had always been the easygoing teammate Tony used to choose as his ally when he wanted to play a prank or simply to create some confusion during a meeting, it was strange and wrong to see him so serious, so pained._

_It had to have cost him a lot coming down there to talk about Loki like that, with no defenses nor rage, and not only to discuss which death would be the most appropriated for the god._

_Tony sighed._

_He forced himself to relax his fingers, one by one, to meet Clint's eyes instead of the invisible blood stains on his own hands._

“ _It wasn't Loki the one who tortured me. Schmidt did it. But now that the too tanned bastard is dead, I feel way better and my only trauma is having spent whole weeks without alcohol, coffee and different food than sandwiches.”_

_For a moment the archer diverted his gaze and his expression showed a hint of discomfort, but then he grimaced again, only with less bitterness._

“ _Loki didn't torture you? The fucking bastard who almost destroyed New York and enjoys tormenting whoever is unlucky enough to cross his path?”_

“ _What can I say, my sex appeal must have softened him.”_

_Clint snorted, expressing in a total douchy way his absurd doubts about Tony's sex appeal, but at least the atmosphere had lightened up a little._

 

The conversation with Clint, even more than the one with Thor, had let him irritated and on edge, like all of his nerves had been exposed, and the thought of Loki had remained inside his mind like poison until Jarvis had told him about Natasha's request.

Tony breathed deeply, feeling deadly tired. Tired to stand, to think, to have a brain that functioned too well. Tired to face friends and teammates that looked at him with cautious, worried eyes while they had still their bodies covered in wounds that had been his faults. He had to bear it, though, for one last time.

“Okay, Jarvis, let's try to survive to the final and most annoying time loss of the day,” he murmured, reaching the elevator.

“You have all my support, Sir.”

 


	88. Chapter 86: Dissecting a genius' mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, to say it in Tony's language, this chapter was a real pain in the ass. I had the urge to kill Natasha at least four times, because she wasn't cooperating XD I only hope it was worth the wait. For the good things, it's quite long and soon (let's say in one chapter and a half) this story won't be a WIP anymore, only a translation in progress.
> 
> Thank you all for your feedbacks, every time I find them I can't avoid thinking that this attempt to translate LAM to English was definitely worth it^^

** Chapter 86: Dissecting a genius' mind **

 

“So, you came here last, waiting for the others to wear me down? Classy, a real spy,” Stark commented as soon as he entered the common hall.

Natasha greeted him with a smile.

“I preferred giving you the time to put yourself at ease.”

“Nice trick when you pretended to side with Pepper during the escape from the hospital, by the way. It's all a farce, isn't it? You're still one of Fury's men?”

Natasha looked at him without talking for a few moments, recognizing suspicion on his face, but also a tip of irritation. Stark would really want that to be the truth, he would find it more acceptable and less dangerous than having doubts on where her loyalty really laid.

“Maybe. Or maybe what I told him and Pepper is the truth and I'm siding with the Avengers.” She let her eyes wander all around. “So, do you want to do it here? Or do you prefer a less _personal_ place?”

“Here it's fine.”

She sat down on a stool at the bar without stopping studying him, while he went behind the counter to retrieve a couple of bottles. Stark was being defensive, but not in the way she would expect it. No irony, no sexual innuendos, not even after she had served him one on a silver plate. He was tired, in a different way than the people who had survived torture and had nightmares and pain that bothered their sleep.

One minute later, Stark was sitting in front of her and there were two half full glasses on the counter. One of them had vodka in it, and Stark pushed it towards her, while he grabbed the one that contained scotch.

“Well then, what do you want to know?”

“Anything you can tell me about Schmidt and especially about Loki.”

Stark took a generous sip of his scotch and swallowed it down without a shudder, before giving her his fake smile.

“Schmidt wanted me to work with him, to build a weapon. I refused and he tried to convince me, the hard way. Loki found me in not so good shape, so he preferred avoiding killing me and gave me instead a chance to recover, since, you know, he's psycho and he didn't find it funny to torment who had already been tortured by someone else. We had just started painting each other nails and establishing turns to use the bathroom when you arrived. The end.” He drank all the scotch, then he stood up. “If you want more vodka, please, serve yourself.”

Natasha immediately grabbed his arm.

“It was pitiful even as a summary and you know I need every single detail.”

Despite her expectations, Stark didn't react violently. He didn't even try to fight her too tight grip, he only stared at her hand before meeting her gaze again.

“If you believe your threatening, 'I'm a lethal assassin' behavior could work on me, think again. Do I have to remind you that I spent the last few weeks in the hands of a Nazi who's fond of torture and of a psychopathic god?”

Natasha let him go immediately and her expression softened.

“I wasn't threatening you.” And her grip hadn't caused any shivers, nor any signs of fear or rejection. He hadn't suffered anything too worse in the physical area, then. “Let's give it another try, okay?”

Stark made a grimace.

“Like I had a choice, in that,” he commented, but he sat down again.

“I'll make it as painless as I can, for you, so try to cooperate.”

She lifted her untouched glass and hinted a smile, before emptying it in a few sips. The vodka burned her throat, cold and strong, exactly how she liked it. She didn't even make an attempt to stop Stark when he poured another glass for both of them.

“I can't make promise, but go on, let's hear your questions.”

“How did you end up in Loki's hands?” she asked, choosing to start from the beginning.

“Reindeer Games perceived Schmidt's power and arrived to steal it from him, which he apparently did without any efforts at all. Then, snooping around, because he just seems to be unable to mind to his own business, he found me in a cell.” Stark's eyes returned to her, showing a challenging glimpse. “Do you have the intention of killing Pepper for Fury?”

“No, and I'm the one who asks the questions.”

Stark shook his head, making disapproving sounds with his tongue.

“That's not how it works, Romanoff. An answer for an answer. If you turn the screw on me, I turn the screw on you.”

“I'm not the one who has been in the hands of two dangerous enemies for more than a month.”

“I don't care. Take it or leave it, it's my way of making things easy for you.”

Natasha remained silent for one whole minute. Silence had never bothered her, while she knew for a fact that it bothered people like Stark, who felt the urge to fill every moment with the sound of their own voice, maybe to distract themselves from the voices that were echoing inside their mind. She had read every information about him even before she had met him, and since she had had her first interaction with him, when she had been undercover, she had studied him long enough to know his traumas and triggers, his way to react to authority and to direct questions, his inability to bear inaction and silence. Now, however, she felt like she was looking at a mirror, given how unperturbed and controlled Stark was staring back at her.

Something must have happened during his time as a prisoner. Not mind control, because his eyes had the usual color and he wasn't behaving like an infiltrator with a plan in mind, but the man in front of her wasn't the usual Stark.

She waited a couple of seconds more before agreeing.

“Okay then. Fury didn't ask me to kill Pepper and I would never do it anyway, unless she became crazy and threatened to kill us all.”

Some more sips, and the second glass of scotch disappeared.

“Should I believe you've got feelings, agent Romanoff?”

“You should believe I have brains. I like Pepper, but more than anything I know that, if something happened to her, you would start the third world war.”

There was a smile, fleeting and ironical, but it was the most relaxed and sincere expression Stark had showed her since he had been back to the Tower.

“Better if you keep that in mind.”

Natasha smiled back.

“I will.” And it was a pity that Stark was so unpredictable and dangerous, because in moments like that she really liked the man. “What nightmares did you have, last night?”

Stark's gaze remained focused on hers.

“Loki pushing me down the roof,” he replies with no hesitations. “Why are you siding with the Avengers?”

“Because they're the team I belong to. All of you are my team. And I believe that what we do makes more sense than if we acted individually.”

Stark stared at her like he was trying to put her expression into data and circuits, in a form he could understand as well as physics. Then he nodded.

This time Natasha waited a few seconds to choose her next question.

“Why are you defending Loki?”

Stark arched one eyebrow in a too evident way.

“Excuse me, when did I defend that narcissistic bastard?”

“Since you've been back.”

“I am _not_ defending him. I'm simply telling you how things have happened.” Stark emptied his third glass of scotch in two sips, before filling it again. He was drinking too much, especially for someone who hadn't been able to drink for entire weeks. “What happened to your arm?”

“Loki used me as a shield to intercept two of Clint's arrows. I think I should consider myself lucky that they weren't the explosive ones.” This time, she only took a small sip of her vodka. “What did you do to upset him to that extent?”

“I told him he had gained weight because his pants looked way tighter than usual.”

“Stark,” Natasha warned him, only for him to show her a pensive expression.

“That, and I could have hinted to the fact that only an hysterical diva could react in such a melodramatic way for a simple adoption. But I'm pretty sure that it was the weight thing what made him furious.”

Stark was lying. Not completely, but he was lying.

Not that it mattered, since she had always been able to find the information she wanted among the lies, maybe even more than among the truths. Sooner or later, she would know everything.

She watched him placing the bottle back on the counter, noticing that his eyes seemed like they had troubles putting her into focus.

“How come you let him wound you all so much?”

Stark had talked with an accusing voice, but it wasn't hard perceiving his guilt behind his harsh words. It wouldn't be even if she hadn't known his psychological profile and the reasons behind his choice to become a superhero.

“We underestimated him. And, in case you didn't notice it before, he is a god. Who now has one Tesseract shard that amplifies his powers.”

“Two.”

This time, Stark really took her by surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“He had two shards. He put one inside his scepter, while he hid the other in a sort of dimensional drawer, and I don't dare to imagine how many black leather clothes and horned elms he could have stored in other dimensions. But if he only used his scepter against you, then I have bad news.”

Natasha tensed, she couldn't avoid it. The power she had witnessed, a power so out of their league that had almost destroyed them all, had made her feel as helpless as she hadn't been since she was just a child. And now, to discover that Loki hadn't even showed all of his power...

She forced herself to hide her turmoil, facing Stark with the usual unreadable expression. She would analyze the information he had revealed in another time, now she had an interrogation to take care of.

“What happened when Loki returned to you wounded?”

Even while she had been busy with Steve, trying to stop the bleeding, she hadn't missed the hits that the god had suffered, first from Thor and then from Clint. Loki had almost killed them, that was true, but she was sure that he had exited the battle at least as hurt as they were.

The smile Stark sent to her was full of contempt.

“Is it your way to ask me why I didn't take advantage of the situation to kill him and escape?”

“No, but if you have thought about it, maybe I should have asked you exactly that.”

Stark's smile widened, and she had the impression she had heard a joke she couldn't understand.

“Come on, Romanoff, it was crystal clear what you meant with your question.” The smile disappeared behind the glass. “I tried to strangle him, Loki sent me flying against the wall, because clearly you didn't wound him enough, and in the end we decided to cooperate so that we would both survive, since he was oozing blood everywhere and I didn't want to starve with his corpse as my only company in a house that was disconnected from our reality thanks to his magic. And no, the imminent death of our favorite diva wouldn't make the spell disappear, it was the first thing I made myself sure of.”

Again, Stark was telling her a half truth. He wasn't lying, but he wasn't saying all of the story. The way he admitted everything was suspicious, it was the first and most basic rule of deception, not lying but presenting the truth in the most convenient way, to hide the dangerous details in plain sight.

Natasha was so focused on her own thoughts, that she almost didn't notice when Stark began talking again.

“Have you ever thought of having sex with me?”

She didn't hesitated, nor did she change her expression.

“Yes.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing Stark taken aback.

“That's it, Romanoff? No details? No context?”

“Why should I make it easy, for you?”

Stark made a grimace, but his eyes contained a sparkle of amusement.

“So, tell me, would you have done it for your mission, when you were under the alias of Natalie Rushman?”

“No, that would compromise my mission. I just think you're interesting and inventive enough to make a good fuck, but” and here she showed a hint of a smile “I don't think I would be able to stand your ego.”

“I didn't say I would have accepted having sex if you.”

Natasha reject the urge to give him the obvious reply and instead returned serious again.

“Why this game?”

“I wanted to make things interesting. It's typical of you people who enjoy manipulating the ones around you and entering their mind.”

“You mean?”

“You like challenges, you like showing how much better than everyone else you are at guessing other people's thoughts and at being all mysterious and without weaknesses. This is why you accepted my proposition.” At Natasha's questioning expression, Tony smiled. “I played the same game with him.”

“With Loki?”

Stark nodded.

“He wanted some answers, from me.” He shrugged, before adding immediately “Nothing about my inventions or the Avengers. He was just curious to know what Schmidt had done to me.”

The change in Stark's behavior caught her attention right away. It wasn't evident, just something subtle, a few details he probably wasn't even aware of, but her trained eyes didn't miss them: fingers gripping the glass too tightly than normal, shoulders tense, gaze that was focused on her forehead and not on her eyes anymore.

Schmidt. They had all believed that Loki had been the greatest danger, the most insidious one, the enemy who would leave on Stark the same scars he had left on Clint, and yet it seemed like they had all been wrong, at least partially.

Schmidt was what had happened to their teammate, what had changed him so. She just had to understand how.

It hadn't been rape, because Stark hadn't reacted badly when she had grabbed his arm, and she doubted it had been only physical torture. When Ten Rings had tried to bend Stark with pain, they had caused the birth of Iron Man and their own destruction, and Schmidt hadn't wanted to damage such an important prisoner too much.

There had to be something else.

“And what did he do to you?”

“Let's say that I wasn't exactly at my best, when Loki found me. And you know he's a possessive bastard, right?”

“The possessive part is new, to me.”

Obsessive was one of the first words that came to her mind when she thought about Loki. Obsessive in his resentment and in his attempts to exact vengeance towards Thor, and in everything that was related to his adoption and his half-brother. But he had never showed a possessive side, especially not towards Stark.

The fingers on the glass relaxed, as did his face.

“It seems I'm his favorite enemy, most attractive human he has ever met, genial mind, perfect goatee, magnificent hot body and so on, so he decided to help me recover.”

Stark's behavior, even more than his words, triggered an alarm in her head.

“Do you know what Stockholm Syndrome is?”

“What I don't have. Maybe you should ask that to our divine Dracula, because I can assure you that I have every intention to kick his ass from Earth to his planet the first occasion I get.”

She barely listened to him, watching his face with narrow eyes.

“Have you been compromised?”

“No,” Stark replied, like he had expected the question. Then he hesitated. “Not as you intend it, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

Stark's face hardened.

“My turn, Romanoff. If Fury gave you the order to kill all the Avengers, would you be able to kill Clint?”

For a moment, Natasha had the impulse to not answer, maybe because it was a question she had already asked herself many times, since she had begun to acknowledge the fact she had bonds.

“I would consider the advantages that his death would give the world and then make my choice,” she finally said.

Stark look at her for a long time.

“I'm almost convinced you told me the truth, this time.”

“I'm not the one who lied during this conversation.” She grabbed her glass and finished the vodka in small sips. “So, have you been compromised, Stark?”

“No. Not like Clint, and I sure as hell am not on Loki's side. But I had the chance to listen to his part of his story, or better, I managed to wring it out of him, and if he's such an asshole it's in great part because of what happened to him. I guess you know he didn't want to conquer the Earth, don't you? And that behind the attempted invasion there was another alien who's even more of a psychopath than Rock of Ages?” Stark stopped, his eyes becoming pensive. “By the way, how could you know about the crazy alien?”

Natasha met his eyes with no hesitations.

“Loki talked about him during the fight and thanks to Thor's knowledge we managed to put the pieces together.”

Stark's suspicious gaze didn't disappear, but it softened.

“Right. Well, so I'm not on his side and I haven't been compromised and I have nothing of those psychological bullshit problems you would dump on me. But before he pushed me down the roof, I thought it wouldn't be bad to have the little shit on our side, if there really is an upcoming war.”

“Understandable thought.” Natasha smiled sweetly at him. “Whether or not his attempt to murder you.”

“Say it again and you'll have to find another attractive billionaire who offers you a tower to live in. Something else you wanted to ask?”

“No, I'm good.”

She needed time, now. Time and solitude, so that she could reflect on what Stark had told her and take apart his every word until she found the answers she was looking for. Her words were enough for him to relax: his expression softened and the atmosphere lightened. His eyes now weren't wary and hostile anymore, but showed a glimpse of amusement.

“Tell me truth, you were surprised that I was so keen on cooperating, weren't you?”

“Yes, Stark. It seems like you were less predictable than I hoped.”

“I know how you are, Nat. Why should I have bothered denying you answers that you would be able to obtain anyway, maybe remaining obsessively by my side during the next few days?”

Natasha smiled at him.

“Because you enjoy making things harder for other people?”

Stark smiled back, pouring himself another drink.

“True. Let's say you were lucky, today I felt generous.”

He lifted his glass in a mocking toast, and Natasha stopped before reaching the elevator.

“Tony, you shouldn't drink so much.”

“I am Tony, now? And why are you assuming Pepper's role?”

“Maybe today I feel generous too.”

 


	89. Chapter 87: Chased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, unbetaed update, but I hope it won't leave you indifferent... please, don't hate me! Thank you so much for your feedbacks, they made my week :)
> 
> Spoiler warnings in the end notes.

**Chapter 87: Chased**

 

He was running.

There was a shadow chasing him, a being so terrifying that he had his breath stuck in his throat and felt his blood freezing in his own veins, like the times when the palladium poisoning was spreading into his body. His legs moved as fast as the wind, but it wasn't enough, it would never be.

The shadow was getting closer, with no face nor voice. It was just pure evil.

He panted in fear and in exhaustion, his lungs were burning, his fingers were tingling in need to grab a weapon, even if he already knew he wouldn't stand a chance against that threat.

Then, the feeling of being chased disappeared. There was a feeble light in front of him, together with a familiar figure.

Only then he realized that he wasn't Tony: his hands had too elegant fingers and there were leather clothes around his body and too long hair were brushing against his shoulders.

Tony was in front of him

“Come with me”, he heard a voice saying, a voice that didn't sound like his own, while his own hand stretched out like an offer.

The Tony in front of him took a couple of steps closer, while the threatening feeling reappeared like an invisible presence all around them. Then Tony disappeared, replaced by the shadow, but the shadow had his face, with lips curved into a cruel smile and eyes that were looking at him with the same coldness Tony had had to show when he had looked at the terrorists in Gulmira.

“No.”

The darkness swallowed him whole.

“ _What do you think you are doing, all alone, all by yourself, when only an eternity of unspeakable suffering awaits you?”_

A thousand scorching hot blades pierced his skin, opening holes and deep wounds inside his body, dark, burning blood began oozing out and collecting in a pool at his feet, and he screamed and screamed while the darkness surrounded him.

 

He opened his eyes in the dim-light of his bedroom, sitting up among sheets stained in cold sweat and a silence that was interrupted only by his wheezing.

He wasn't even truly surprised when he caught sight of a well known figure sitting on the free side of the bed, with his white teeth glimmering in the dark in a predatory smile.

“Were you dreaming about someone?”

“It was you, wasn't it?” Tony muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. “It wasn't enough for you to push me down the roof, now you even come to harass me during the night?”

He didn't even have the will to order Jarvis to call the Avengers, or the energy to show the fury he should have felt.

The smile assumed an innocent shade.

“I do not understand what you mean. I only came here to see how my prisoner was faring.”

“Ex prisoner. Since you tried to kill me I broke up with you, didn't you know that?” Tony laid down again, waving one hand towards the god's motionless body. “Jarvis, would you please defenestrate Thor's little brother? I'm trying to sleep.”

This time the smile disappeared.

“Be careful of what you say.”

Tony snorted. He had used the words that would irritate the god the most on purpose, even if he didn't know if the bastard was really there. But he was tired. Whether Loki was real or only an illusion born out of an unusual nightmare, he didn't care. The only thing he wanted was to shut down his mind and reaching the coveted peace of a night without dreams.

“You're not in your territory anymore, Rock of Ages. Now magic yourself away, or fly away with your broom, or do the fuck you want, but leave me alone.”

Loki was upon him in the blink of an eye.

“But Stark, you have never stopped being my prisoner.”

Suddenly there were cold chains around his wrists and Tony found himself hanging from the ceiling, the tips of his feet barely brushing the floor. Other chains appeared on his chest, hard steel meeting in the center of his torso right where the Reactor was, making him shiver, and his bedroom wasn't there anymore, he was in a cave, now, the smell of sand and blood that was so powerful he gagged. Then he was in the cell Schmidt had kept him, the cold seeping through his bones while the memories of dead children assaulted his mind. Finally he was in Loki's bedroom, where he had spent the nights, at first on the floor and then on the god's own bed.

He struggled with all his strength, not caring that the chains were chafing his skin.

_No._

Not a prisoner again, not with that psychopath, not after he was already plodding along during his everyday life to find a semblance of balance.

He wanted to scream his rejection, the fear and rage and frustration of being there again, but one hand hit him just under the crossed chains and the Reactor, stealing his breath and keeping him even more trapped against the wall.

“You are mine,” Loki murmured, this time with a gentle voice that contrasted with the roughness of his touch.

“Like hell I am,” Tony hissed.

He tried to kick him, but immediately the chains appeared around his thighs and calves too, tight enough to hurt, keeping him still in an alarming position with his legs slightly open. He struggled to breathe, despite the pressure on his chest.

He couldn't move, he almost couldn't breathe, and the rage he felt in being so helpless wasn't enough to make his fear disappear. Then, in his increasing panicking state, he felt a stab of arousal when the hand on his chest shifted on his throat and Loki's body pressed against his own.

“If you were not mine, now I would not be inside your mind,” the god laughed, before claiming his lips.

And Tony's muffled protests were swallowed by Loki's burning mouth.

 

This time, he woke up for real.

He sat up abruptly, looking around the room, wheezing while he still felt the ghost of a kiss burning his lips.

“Jarvis, has anyone been here, while I was sleeping?”

A light appeared on his bedside table, dim enough that it didn't bother his eyes.

“No, sir. Should someone have been here?”

Tony shook his head, without the strength to formulate a proper answer.

“Fuck,” he panted, passing one hand on his sweated face.

Even in the form of a mere thought, that bastard was driving him crazy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: PTSD, vague dub-con situation


	90. Chapter 88: Like a stranger to the world

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time, a fast update! Thank you for your feedbacks, I always appreciate them a lot, and a special thanks go to Nyaed, who corrected this chapter in record time!

**Chapter 88: Like a stranger to the world**

 

He didn't know how he managed to survive the days after his return to the Tower.

Hours passed by, all alike, between working in his lab and long nights full of nightmares. He always woke up exhausted, before the dawn, sweating and out of breath. He began to hate the dark, but he hated the violent red of his dreams even more.

And, in that torment, the thought of the god hadn't stopped torturing him.

From a reassuring presence at his side that helped him escape his nightmares, Loki had become one of their stars, sometimes as his executioner, sometimes as his victim. The god attacked him in caves stained with blood and in cold cells while there was a collar around his neck; he threatened him and he saved him and he killed him and he fucked him. There were nights when Loki ripped the Reactor from his chest with a cruel grin, and nights when he was the one who pushed the god down the roof, who laughed at his desperate attempt to escape, at his pain, who condemned him to the grim fate that was looming before him with no hesitations or mercy.

Tony still hadn't decided which one of the two possibilities was the worst.

The days were only slightly more bearable.

Thanks to Jarvis, he had managed to avoid meeting his teammates by chance, but often they were the ones who sought him out. He had called it suffocating love, to joke with his usual irony, but it was the truest definition he could find to describe what hit him when he noticed their worried eyes, the pretended happiness in their faces, the caution they used around him, trying in vain to get back the friendship and the closeness that seemed to have disappeared with his return.

Pepper, Bruce, Clint, Steve, even Thor... only Natasha watched him from afar, with eyes that caught more than Tony would like them to.

He wanted to throw them out of his Tower and at the same time to apologize to them – s _orry, I'm sorry if I'm broken, you should find someone else to take my place, my jokes, my role in the team, Iron Man doesn't exist anymore._

He wanted to never see them again but to know that they were alive and happy.

His only refuge was his lab.

He spent the hours obsessively trying to find a way to block magic, perfecting his new version of the Reactor and improving its energy's radiation at every simulation. His only goal was to create an anti-Loki weapon, and he didn't think about anything else. Focusing on that project prevented his mind from enumerating his failures, from thinking and remembering what he had tried so hard to forget, from ignoring the emptiness he sometimes felt when he lifted his head expecting a sarcastic comment from the god.

The silence was both welcome and hated.

He had come to know many kinds of solitude, during his life. The loneliness typical of a genius among a crowd that was too stupid to understand him or not interesting enough to maintain his attention. The solitude of throwing a party for his own birthday while being tormented by the cruel awareness that he was dying. The pleasant solitude of the hours spent alone in his lab.

Sometimes he had yearned for it, other times he had tried to escape it, but he had never hated and desired it the same way that had happened during the last few days.

With great irritation, he had realized that it was all the fault of his old persecutor.

It was hard to get used to the fact that Loki wasn't there with him, to accept the silence in place of an annoyed snort, his panting breath filling his empty bedroom instead of the god's ironical words, the absence of the solid body against his own, of that crazy grin that had almost lost the homicidal edge when it was pointed at him.

Without Loki, he felt weak, frailer, even if the mere acknowledgment of such a thought made him angry.

He had started drinking again, both out of habit and to deal with everything, but then he had found himself witnessing strange events: his alcoholic provisions disappeared or moved around the house when he wasn't there, and he began retrieving bottles with only a couple of sips left when he was sure they should have been at least half full.

The bottle of scotch he still hadn't opened had vanished for a couple of days, appearing again where the vodka should have been, with only some drops of alcohol in it. The Martini had simply disappeared. He had found the broken, empty bottle in the trashcan, even if he was certain he hadn't even tasted it.

The whisky had moved from the kitchen cabinet, to the bedside table, to the little table in the living room, and finally next to the television screen; the alcohol in it had brutally decreased at each change of position.

It hadn't been Pepper, he was certain of that, because she would only empty the bottle in the sink and scold him, and he didn't even think he had been so drunk that he hadn't realized his own actions.

He was half convinced that his own mind was playing tricks on him, to pretend that there was someone invisible in his home, and half hopeful that Loki had never stopped being interested in him and that those odd phenomenons were the god's smirking signature. He still hadn't forgiven himself for that last, absurd hypothesis.

He reached his lab with a tired sigh.

Even that night he had slept too little and without finding real rest, but between some strong coffee and the prototype waiting for him, he preferred being awake than whole hours of nightmares.

He finished his third cup of coffee, before shifting his attention to the new Reactor.

“What would you say about something different today, sir?”

Even Jarvis had started talking to him with a gentle, cautious voice that should have never belonged to him.

“What are you suggesting, Jarv?”

“You haven't used your suit once since you returned. You didn't even repair it.” The voice became slightly scolding. “I believe that you should at least test it.”

Tony tensed before he could avoid it.

His eyes ran towards the wall where the empty shell of Iron Man was glaring at him through the threatening cracks he once had used to watch the world.

_ It's not me anymore. _

And still, part of him yearned for the suit, wanted to touch its smooth, perfect surface which was so familiar he could have recreated its contours with his eyes closed, wanted to feel encased in a protective, infallible armor again, wanted to stretch his hand and be once again invincible, to disguise himself as a hero and live again that lie that had made him a better man.

He closed his hands into fists before he could feel the blood staining them, before the weight of a girl's dead body dragged him down to an abyss with no bottom.

“I trust your repairs; I know it was in good hands when I was away.”

As soon as the effects of Schmidt's attack had disappeared, it seemed like Jarvis had managed to reestablish the connection with the suit and take over, calling it back to the Tower following the emergency situation protocol. Tony had no doubts that his AI had already done the necessary fixing during the last few weeks.

“As you wish,” Jarvis commented, with a clear resentful voice.

“Now don't be mad.”

“I am an artificial intelligence, I am not able to feel human emotions.”

_ Yeah, sure. _

The silence that filled his lab was like a shroud, trapping his body and mind. He felt the urge to throw something onto the floor, a screwdriver, the blowtorch, a chair, anything to make some noise.

He reached for his prototype, but he suddenly realized how useless all of his efforts were, because without a source of magic to analyze he would never know if he was proceeding in the right path. He pulled his hand back, his chest full of rage and bitterness, and the taste of bile in his mouth.

“Is there something wrong?” murmured Jarvis, more cautious and less detached than before.

He didn't reply immediately, he only took a deep breath.

_ Everything is wrong, and I am the wrongest. _

“Do you want me to load the last simulation data?”

He hesitated again in the silence, feeling the suit's gaze on his back, burning and accusatory.

_ I'm not a hero, not anymore. _

But that was his suit, his creation, a part of himself that wasn't so easy to leave behind, not while it was so close.

It was only a routine test, after all, it wasn't like he had to put it on.

“You know what, Jarv? You've got me. Let's see how you fixed it.”

“As you wish.”

And if Jarvis' voice sounded more enthusiastic and relieved, maybe it wasn't only his impression.

 


	91. Chapter 89: Breaking point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks a lot for your feedbacks! I love your comments and I love chatting with other FrostIron fans. Special thanks go to Nyaed, for her help and corrections.
> 
> I hope this chapter won't disappoint any of you. Have a good weekend, and see you next week for the next update!

**Chapter 89: Breaking Point**

 

Everything was back to what it was before.

Tony was in the Tower safe and sound, the truce with Fury was holding on, thanks to the alien threat, and the Avengers were recovering.

Everything was back to what it was before, only that it wasn't.

There had been a press conference that morning. Tony had flashed his grin for the cameras, had posed like his usual, arrogant self, had joked about his captivity and about the bruises that still stood out on his skin, and had smiled with an irony and a bitter sarcasm that maybe were a little more cruel than usual.

“No, no big announcements, no radical changes, nothing out of the ordinary. This time, I'll only protect the world from alien threats and make my CEO mad, like in the past,” he had said, and the journalists had burst into laughter, half amused and half relieved.

They had crowded him after the conference had ended, and Tony had found a word for everyone, showing a patience he hadn't had even during more important events.

In the end, he had taken his leave with his usual, self confident grin.

But he wasn't Tony.

He had entered the car after murmuring a farewell, the signs of his exhaustion so evident on his face that Pepper had seen them even behind his sunglasses, and as soon as he had reached the Tower he had hidden in his lab without waiting for her.

She had waited in vain to see him during the next few hours. In the meanwhile, she had done all the paperwork for the day, but her mind had been away, distracted, until she hadn't been able to take it anymore.

She decided to face him when half of the afternoon had passed, going down to the lab with no documents to sign or deadlines of which to remind him. She was armed only with her determination and a growing anguish.

“Are you dying?”

Tony turned to face her with a frown.

“What?”

She collected all her strength to prevent her voice from breaking and to show instead an indifferent facade.

"I asked you if you're dying.”

“Everyone is dying, little by little.” Tony shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you're withdrawing into yourself. You hide in the lab, you avoid everyone and you don't talk to me, exactly like that time.”

“Don't you think you're being too apprehensive?”

Maybe, only with him, with the man she had loved and still loved, even if in a different way. The man she had watched entering a portal with a nuclear missile on his shoulders, for whose return she had waited for so long, willing to help him recover, to help him put himself together again.

Only Tony didn't want to let her.

She shook her head.

“You barely eat or sleep, you work and nothing else. When was the last time you talked to me, or to one of your teammates, without us being the ones who sought you out? Or the last time you ate with someone? Or the last night you didn't have nightmares?”

Tony froze, staring at her with a face that wasn't able to hide his guilt, before the rage took over.

“Jarvis,” he called, with a hard voice.

“No, don't take it out on him. I tried to guess and it seems like I was right.”

She watched him tightening his lips and trying in vain to hide a grimace, but he didn't reply.

“Why don't you talk to me?” she asked, _screamed_ almost, in a silence that was more hostile and heavier as seconds passed by.

For just one moment, Tony's detached expression quivered.

“There's nothing I need to talk about. I am fine, Pep.” The smile he gave her was so uncertain that something in her chest broke a little. “Really. I only want to be prepared for when we'll kick Rock of Ages' ass to the next galaxy.”

He had talked with his usual ironical voice, but there was a crack in the indifference he was using to hide himself from the world and from her, and Pepper grabbed onto it with all the hope she had left.

“You can trust me. I don't know what happened to you and you don't have to tell me, but I want to help.” She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Don't keep me away from you.”

“I'm not keeping you away. I just have an important project to deal with.” There was a hesitation, but soon after Tony's face hardened. The crack disappeared, and he seemed a stranger when he looked at her again. “Now, could you please leave? I have work to do.”

“Tony... please.”

She felt her eyes becoming wet already and there was a lump in her throat that made it difficult to breathe. She had waited so long. Waited in fear, for more than a month, trusting in Tony's strength, hoping in his return.... And now he was back and it was like he was still far away from her, like she had truly lost him.

There was a sigh.

“You should be the one to rest, instead of worrying about me,” said Tony, in a warmer voice. He lifted one hand, brushing it against her cheek. “You look tired.”

He pulled back his hand and turned around before she could react to his touch, in a dismissal so evident that she felt something bitter in her mouth.

With a sense of defeat growing stronger and more unbearable at every moment of silence, Pepper reached the elevator and left him alone.

 

 

 

Bruce was about to return to his room after a late evening tea when he saw her- a figure half in the dark, resting against the wall like she didn't have the strength to stand up properly. She was so still that he wondered how long she had been there.

“Pepper, are you okay?”

Tired eyes met his. They were wet, and he had the feeling that she was barely containing her tears.

“Yes.” Her eyes disappeared for one moment behind her eyelids before returning to meet his gaze. “No. I don't know what to do anymore.”

“About Tony?”

He didn't need to actually ask; everyone had noticed it. Even Steve and Thor, despite having their wounds to take care of and not possessing Clint's and Natasha's insight or his own camaraderie with Tony, had realised that their teammate had changed.

Bruce had tried to stay at his side, to offer him company and some help in the lab like in the past, but he had soon realised that Tony preferred remaining alone. He had taken his leave without asking for explanations or trying to impose his presence, because he knew only too well how much the solitude could help, but day after day his worry had grown. And not only his, it seemed.

After a deep breath, Pepper nodded.

“He doesn't want to talk to me. I went to the lab to get some explanations, because he can't go on like this... but he doesn't talk to me.” Her lips began to quiver. “It's like when he was dying because of the palladium. And he still doesn't talk to me.”

She seemed to fold into herself, looking for a control that was escaping her grasp, before bursting into tears.

Bruce stared at her with wide eyes, like a deer in the headlights. Pepper had always been unshakable, stronger than him, than Tony, maybe than everyone. And now she was crying like a child, her face sunk into her own hands and her shoulders shaken by sobs, showing a pain that hit him like a fist.

He didn't really think when he reached for her; he only followed his instincts.

He gingerly pulled her into a hug, in an awkward gesture that was meant to give her some consolation, but immediately Pepper grabbed his shirt like it was her only way to keep breathing, trembling against his chest. She was so minute and frail between his arms, that for a moment Bruce feared he had turned into his alter ego without noticing, even if he knew he didn't have the slightest shade of green on his skin.

“You know how Tony is,” he tried to reassure her, mixing truth and lies in his words. “The lab is the place where he feels safe and hides to lick his wounds. He needs time to get back on his feet.”

She nodded, the face still buried against his neck.

“It's just that... I can't stand it,” she managed to say, before her voice broke into another sob.

“I know.”

To see Tony as a shadow of his former self was painful for him too. He couldn't imagine what it had to be for Pepper.

He kept her against his chest and didn't speak anymore, avoiding empty words that would have no use. Little by little, he felt that she was slowly calming down. His shirt was wet with her tears, and there was a lump that was both awkwardness and bitterness in his throat.

Pepper lifted her head exactly when he was half way to brush his fingers against her hair. He stopped with his hand in midair, feeling even more awkward than before while staring at her eyes full of tears, and he suddenly found himself with her lips pressed against his own.

He froze.

Pepper's lips were soft and tasted salty because of her crying. It had been so long since the last time he kissed a woman that he almost lost the fight against his conscience.

He pulled away abruptly, with his heart hammering inside his chest, and he found himself meeting eyes that showed his same embarrassment.

“Sorry,” they both said at the same time, before lowering their gaze.

“No, I'm the one who did it.”

“It's my fault.”

“I shouldn't have.”

“I didn't want to reject you.”

“I don't know what got into me.”

“It's just that there's Tony.”

“Exactly, it was a stupid thing to do.”

“Really, Pepper, it doesn't matter.”

“Just pretend I never did it.”

There was silence, then, a silence too deep while they were so close. He should have wished her good night, taken shelter in his room, and forgotten everything that had just happened- Pepper's taste that was still on his lips, her tears on his shirt, her warm body- but he couldn't leave her to face the thought of Tony, and now that kiss, alone.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked, with a rougher voice than he would have wanted.

Pepper hesitated.

“I... yes, thank you.”

They moved to the kitchen, where he distracted himself by preparing the tea. He could avoid watching her if he had his hands busy.

Neither of them said a word until two steamy cups were on the table.

“Thank you,” Pepper murmured, before taking her cup.

“You're welcome.”

There were a few more minutes of silence, while the kiss still hovered between them.

It had been a foolish moment of weakness, a mistake he shouldn't think twice about, something to remember only to laugh about later. But it hadn't been like that, for him.

He had understood when he had awoken with his eyes on Pepper's face, in the middle of a devastated room, and had felt his chest full of horror thinking that he could have hurt her and of relief of seeing that she was unharmed. That warmth in his chest when he saw her smile, something he hadn't felt since Betty, that added to the stability and the pleasant company Pepper gave him.

He would have never acted following that realisation, but the kiss had made everything more real.  _Too real._

“I think I'm going to leave for a few days,” he suddenly said.

For a moment, there was a fearful, wounded expression in Pepper's face.

“Will you come back?”

“Of course. Tony made me understand that the lab is too small for both of us, and I think it would be good, for me, to return to India to meditate, after... after the last events. One week, not more.” He tried to smile. “So that you'll be able to arrange a meeting with Fury without any risks.”

Pepper avoided his eyes.

“I understand. Yes, I think it's a good idea.”

“Will you be okay?”

She hinted at a smile, her weakness replaced by simple exhaustion, and she was the indestructible CEO of Stark Industries again.

“Don't worry, I only needed to vent a little.” She gingerly placed one hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

Bruce had to fight both the impulse to pull back and the urge to place his hand on hers.

“Don't thank me.”

_ I am running away because that's all I know to do. _

“Tony is strong. You can be sure of that.” But he didn't tell her that sometimes the inner demons were stronger. “Call me, for anything you need, or if you feel like it,” he said while they both stood up.

Pepper took the cups to wash them, gently refusing his attempt to help.

“I will,” she replied without turning around.

And they both knew it was a lie.

 


	92. Chapter 90: Lockdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank to Nyaed for her help and corrections, and a huge thanks to you all too, for your feedbacks and support. I'm so glad my fic still interests you even now that it's ending!

**Chapter 90: Lockdown**

 

It happened way too fast.

Steve had called him while he was in his lab working on a prototype.

“Tony, we have an emergency.” On the other end of the phone there had been a slight hesitation. “Some of the remaining members of Hydra have broken into a weapons facility. Do you feel up for it?”

“Do I feel up for it? Book a place for me too, I'm coming.”

And now he was staring at his suit, dead still, without being able to make a choice.

He had already touched it, taken it into his hands, checked every single detail to be sure it was perfect, caressing it like he had just found a precious object he had believed to be lost forever. But he hadn't put it on, he hadn't even tried, ignoring the tempting thought that made him feel both fear and anticipation.

He hesitated again, feeling like he was facing an enemy instead of his greatest invention and defense.

He took a deep breath once, twice.

They needed him. Natasha hadn't completely recovered the use of her arm yet, Steve was still affected by his wound, and Thor and Bruce weren't there.

He took another deep breath while trying to relax his shoulder muscles, and his fingers closed into fists. He wasn't this weak.

“Jarvis,” he finally said, opening his arms even while there was an icy grip on his chest and fear was devouring his stomach, making his hands tremble.

The suit covered his body without him taking even a single breath. He moved his fingers inside the gloves one by one; he activated every part of it just to see if it responded correctly, and he took the first steps with a caution he hadn't showed even the first time.

Whole minutes must have passed before he finally decided to try to fly.

He went out in the open, accelerating second after second, and then, in a moment of pure adrenaline, his fear disappeared. He was flying again, going higher and higher, with the same elation he had felt the first day he had put on his suit.

He was finally wearing his second skin after so much time it seemed an eternity, and now he found that it fit perfectly-  _everything was perfect._

He reached the meeting place with the others in a few minutes.

“Did you miss me?”

“We were thinking you wouldn't arrive,” Natasha commented.

“Woman of little faith.” His eyes ran towards her wounded arm out of instinct. She was keeping it still, along her side, but nothing of her pose or her movements gave her wound away. “So, what are we dealing with?”

Of course, Steve was the one who answered.

“There are fifteen, maybe twenty heavily armed terrorists. S.H.I.E.L.D. has asked us to limit the damages as much as we can.”

Tony had the immediate urge to level the building to the ground.

“You don't say?”

“Really, Tony, this is serious,” Clint commented.

The worried eyes that were watching him were so annoying that Tony grimaced from inside his helmet.

“Relax, Robin Hood, we already have one teacher's pet in the team.”

He bolted into the air before anyone could reply and reached the weapon facility first. Before the Quinjet arrived, he took care of the guards on the roof without giving them the time to warn their companions; then he used his laser to create an access into the building just as he heard the rest of his team arriving.

“Be careful.”

“Who do you think you're talking to, Capsicle?” he said, before going through the hole after having launched a smoke bomb.

He did a perfect superhero landing, and Steve and Clint followed him shortly after while Natasha remained in the back as backup. Then he found himself in a nightmare.

“Be careful, they have hostages!”

He didn't truly hear Clint's voice in his ear-bud; he only knew that he had already lived that scene. In front of him there were a dozen terrorists holding six people on their knees under the threat of guns and rifles aimed at their head.

He didn't know if they were civilians or soldiers, but it didn't matter, because somehow he knew,  _he just knew,_ that the children would arrive too, that they would look at him with hope and then with fear, and in the end they would scream while he killed them.

“Tony, you take care of the ones with the hostages.”

Tony remained still while the smoke dissolved. He wasn't able to act, to move, even to think. And somewhere, Schmidt was laughing, a gun in his hand, and there was a girl's corpse on the ground.

“Tony!”  
His hands were shaking, and there was blood on his fingers, a girl with a hole in her head, betrayed eyes frozen in death that mirrored his own fault.

He gasped, searching for air. He didn't have enough in his lungs. His helmet had to be damaged, because he wasn't able to breathe anymore, and blood was covering his hands; it was warm and sticky and terribly real even through the gloves of his suit.

“Steve, forget about him, I'll take care of it. Clint, you take the ones to the right.”

“Roger.”

And someone was talking in the ear-bud, someone was calling him, voices overlapping until he couldn't recognize them anymore, voices belonging to a man, to a woman, to the children.

“Tony.”

“Tony.”

“Tony!”

“ _Why didn't you save me?”_

And with a jump he was in the air, he was flying through the hole in the ceiling, towards the sun, higher and higher, a dizzying rise that made him go beyond one thousand feet, two thousand, three thousand...

“Sir, if you keep going like this, you will be in danger.”

He was trying to breathe, but there wasn't enough air, he only knew he had to escape, to go away, further and further from those voices and from his own mind.

All around him there was only coldness and the atmosphere, nothing else.

“Sir, for your own safety, I need you to stop _now_.”

The worried note in that familiar voice froze him in midair. He found himself trying to regain control on his own lungs, surrounded by nothingness and caged by the reassuring and at the same time feared sensation of his suit.

He slowly began losing altitude, feeling sweat soaking his hair and back, streaming down to his face and bothering eyes that still weren't able to put the world into focus.

“Jarvis, let's go home,” he wheezed in a rough voice that was only barely comprehensible.

“Of course, sir.”

 

 

 

The other Avengers found him almost an hour later in the common area while he was drinking his fourth glass of scotch with his eyes aimed at the window.

Tony turned around only when he heard the elevator's doors opening and heavy steps walking forward, and, without much surprise, he found himself facing the rage of their impeccable, intrepid leader.

“What the hell got into you?!”

“Do you want a drink, Capsicle? I sense you're a little upset.”

Steve reached him with his hands tightened into fists, the fury on his face still visible despite the mask.

“We needed your help!” he screamed, so close to him that he was almost touching him, looking at him from above, in a position that emphasized his bigger height. “Instead of running away and hiding here to drink, you could hav-”

Tony hit him before he realized he had moved. A punch to his face, to his mouth, Tony himself didn't know if it was to shut him up or simply to attack him in the most vulnerable, immediate part.

“You don't know shit,” he growled, charging another punch.

He wasn't able to land it only because a grip appeared behind him and prevented him from hitting Steve again at the last moment, but his fingers were clenching, his body was taut, ready for a fight that he yearned for with every inch of his being, and his fists were shaking. He tried to free himself, but all he obtained was a shove that turned him ninety degrees towards the wall and the tightening of Clint's hands on him, while the rage was burning his throat, hot and suffocating, and he couldn't avoid craning his neck to glare at America's greatest legend.

“You're always so ready to tell people what the right thing to do is, always so ready to judge, to be a perfect role model for others to follow, when in truth you know nothing.”

He kept his eyes on him, panting in effort while Clint was holding him still, and Natasha's gaze was burning his back. Steve had eyes wide in surprise and was staring at him without doing anything else besides touching the small rivulet of blood from the edge of his mouth that was staining his chin. Tony wanted to scream because he hadn't been able to hurt him more, to throw him away from his Tower and from his sight. He freed himself from Clint's grasp with a hard shove, stepping back towards the elevator.

“Jarvis, initiate protocol lockdown. I don't want anyone on my floor.”

“Yes, sir.”

Only then Steve seemed to be able to shake off his surprise.

“Tony!” he called him running towards the elevator, but the doors closed before he could get in.

“I'm sorry, Captain Rogers, I can't let you pass.”

And then, luckily, there was only silence.

After a few moments, the elevator reached his floor and Tony felt the solitude wrapping around his body like a shield. He could breathe again and quell the fire inside his chest.

He didn't care about Clint, about Natasha's gaze, about what she would deduce from his behavior; he didn't care he had hit and hated someone who had maybe once been his friend.

He searched around the bar until he found a bottle that was still sealed, and then he sat down on the couch and opened it without even looking at what it was.

He spent the rest of the day drinking scotch in front of a television he wasn't even watching, burning his throat sip after sip, until all he could see were only confused colors and his mind stopped thinking.

When he managed to drift into unconsciousness, he dreamed of long, elegant fingers, green eyes burning with that malice and threat and desire which sent a spark of arousal down his spine, and of a slim, lethal body moving in a predatory manner on its own.

 


	93. Chapter 91: What breaks a man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedbacks, I know I'm repeating myself, but they really keep my enthusiasm up. A huge thank to Nyaed for her help and correction too!
> 
> So, three more chapters to go, I only hope these last few chapters won't disappoint you.

**Chapter 91: What breaks a man**

 

It had happened naturally. Once the chaos of the escape from the hospital and of Tony's rescue had been over, the truce between Stark Tower and S.H.I.E.L.D. had made the dynamics between Fury and the Avengers fall into the usual routine. Or almost into the usual routine, given how Clint had gotten close to Pepper and didn't hide his hostility towards Fury, and how Bruce, who now was far away, had withdrawn into himself.

For what concerned the hierarchy and their mutual tasks, however, it had all returned to the way it was in the beginning: they had started cooperating again, both in the preparations for the upcoming war and in dealing with some minor threats, such as terrorists or a couple of super villain wannabes that needed the Avengers' intervention.

Two of those wannabes had showed up in less than three weeks, like the fight against Loki had started a race to see who would be able to defeat them first. They had been nothing too dangerous, though, and Thor and Clint had taken care of them without much trouble, so that Natasha herself and Steve were able to rest and recover.

And during all that time, despite Pepper's clear hostility and Jarvis' monitoring of everything, communications with S.H.I.E.L.D. had been just as common as before their conflicts.

There had to be some kind of control, Fury was right on that, control over the Avengers and over S.H.I.E.L.D. too. With Clint still distrusting the organization and feeling betrayed, that task had fallen onto Natasha's shoulders.

She exhaled a little sigh while she grabbed her phone, ready to report the latest news.

The discovery of how Coulson had faked his own death had taken her by surprise as much as Clint, but it had been different for her. The most human side of her, a side that had been born during the last few years, had felt disappointment and bitterness for the lack of trust that Fury and Coulson had showed towards her, but, despite that, she hadn't put their decision into doubt even once. They were spies; to deceive each other was part of the game and to feel resentment because of that would only be a sign of human weakness that had no place in their missions.

“Romanoff,” said a familiar voice on the other end of the phone.

“Director. I guess you've already been informed of what happened.”

“Only summarily.” There was a pause, the only sign of his worry. “Stark lost his mind, then? PTSD or something worse?”

“The first. Until contact with the enemy, he was perfectly in control of the situation.”

Another pause.

“Does it change anything of your analysis of him?”

Natasha hesitated.

“I'm still sure he wasn't tortured while he was Loki's prisoner, but for what regards Schmidt, something happened with civilians. He can't handle situations with hostages.”

“The corpses we found?” Fury asked, giving voice to her own thoughts.

“They weren't collateral victims from before Stark's arrival like we thought.”

This time Natasha heard a curse.

“So we rescued the greatest weapon builder in the world, right on time for a war against a mad alien, only to find him too traumatized to be of any use?”

Natasha let her bitterness show itself in a grimace. She was alone, no one would be able to see her, and she could allow herself that little moment of humanity. People like her, like Clint, were trained to face the worst outcome of missions, but she knew Stark well enough to know how much a failure, whether or not it was his fault, would hit him.

An operation with hostages which ended badly would annihilate him, and now she remembered too well that there had been children among the bloodied bodies they had found on the battlefield.

“It won't be a problem for the upcoming war against Thanos,” she said after a few moments. “I believe he would be stable enough, in that situation, to return to the field at least as a backup.”

“Only if there aren't any hostages.” Fury sighed. “No, for the moment I prefer that he stays on stand-by.”  
“He won't like it.”

“He doesn't have to like it, but I need him to recover. We need him more than anyone else for this war. And an unstable Stark who is incapable of controlling himself and lashes out against his own teammates is less useful than a dead one.”

Fury was right, more than he could realize. Stark wasn't only necessary to build their defenses and for his economical and political weight, but he was necessary for the team. If Captain America was the symbol of justice and the charismatic leader from whom they all took orders, Iron Man was the annoying person who kept them glued together, who with his genial mannerisms, last minute ideas, and constant chatting made the Avengers what they had been during the last year.

With his absence, they had all noticed how indispensable he was, and now that he spent the day in his lab, avoiding them, the team was wavering, ready to broke apart.

“Roger that,” Natasha murmured.

“And what about Loki? Did you pursue your suspicions?”

“Stark is still obsessed by him. He spends hours in his lab working on a weapon that would make him defenseless, but at the same time he shows an unexpected empathy in his regards.”

“Stockholm Syndrome?”

Natasha remembered the last conversation she had had with Tony, a conversation that had been more like a challenge between alcohol and mutual diffidence. She remembered the words he had spoken and, even more than that, the expression he had hid behind his ironical mask.

“He's too aware for that.”

“Do you think Loki manipulated him?”

“It's Loki we are talking about. The question is how much Stark let himself be manipulated.”

 

 

 

“Tony did _what_? No, you did well calling me. Thank you, Clint.”

Pepper let her cellphone fall again into her purse and began walking at a brisk pace towards the Tower. Ten minutes later, she was already inside the elevator, after having inserted the emergency code to pass through the lockdown protocol.

Tony welcomed her with an half empty battle in his hand and the unmistakable smell of alcohol that reminded her of months before, when they were still together and she used to find him drunk because of some nightmares or a wrong day. Now Tony was even showing his fake smile while he stumbled towards her.

“Hello, Pep. I should have imagined you would arrive to take care of me. After all, it's what you know how to do best, isn't it? You had a lot of experience as a nurse while we were together. Are you here for old time's sake?” He swayed towards the floor, then he looked at her like he was struggling to put her frame into focus. “I'm not sure I'll be able to give you a fuck, though. I fear I'm not in a shape good enough for that.”

“Stop it, Tony!” she burst out, without really wanting to lose her calm.

He was drunk; she should have ignored his words, but her hands were trembling because of the need to hit his cheek, to vent on him all the frustration and the hurt and the worry of the last few days, and to hide how much his behavior was wounding her even now.

Tony smiled again, while watching her like she was an enemy.

“Why should I? It's so damn funny.”

“No it's not! Why are doing this to yourself? Why can't you behave like an adult, facing the problems instead of drinking and drinking, and behaving like everything is a joke?”

The mocking grin Tony was giving to her quivered, then it disappeared, and Pepper wanted to scream, because in its place there was a desperation so vivid and intense that she felt an icy grip on her chest.

“Because this is the only way I can go on.”

Pepper tried hard to swallow, then she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“No, it's not. I can help you. Talk to me, Tony. Please.”

He shook his head.

“I made a mistake. Too many mistakes.”

“Tony.”

“I made too many,” he said again, watching her with wet eyes. “First with Obie and now as Iron Man too.”

“No. What happened with Obadiah wasn't your fault.”

Tony pulled away from her hands with a shove.

“Everything I do kills people. I'll always be the Merchant of Death. I tried to change, to be a hero, a good person... I really tried, but then...” He couldn't finish his sentence, because he abruptly bent over and vomited a mix of alcohol and bile on the carpet. Even then, he tried to speak, broken, cruel words that only reiterated his faults, and Pepper couldn't do anything else besides stay at his side, trying to erase the desperate sound of Tony's voice with her own.

 

Half an hour later, Tony was sleeping on the couch.

Pepper made sure that he didn't risk suffocating in his sleep and that he was only unconscious and not in an alcohol induced coma. Then she took the stained carpet and his smelly clothes away, covering him with a blanket.

She watched him sleep for a couple of minutes before sitting down in the nearest armchair, on her face a determined expression.

“Jarvis, show me the recording of Tony's fight against Red Skull. All of it.”

There was an unusual hesitation, which made her feel she had made the right guess.

“I don't know if I should, Miss Potts,” Jarvis finally said.

“Please.” Her voice broke, but her eyes were still dry. “I need to know.”

She didn't receive an answer for almost an entire minute, but then the screen was turned on and in front of her the images of terrorists, children kept as hostages, and a smiling Red Skull appeared.

She held her breath, waiting for the video to start, while the silence was so deep that she could hear the light snoring from the body near her, and then she saw when Tony fired and she thought she would never be able to breathe again.

In the living room of the floor where she once had lived together with Tony, with him still soundly asleep on the couch, and with a screen showing death scenes in front of her eyes, Pepper wept.

 

 


	94. Chapter 92: Picking up the pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third last chapter, two more to go! Thank you so much for having followed my story until now, and thank you for your comments and kudos. Special thanks as always to Nyaed, for her help and corrections. Enjoy your reading!

**Chapter 92: Picking up the pieces**

 

Two days had passed.

Two days since he had punched America's greatest legend in the face, two days since the memories of the dead children had made his hands tremble and turned the taste of scotch into the only recourse he had to suffocate his guilt for those images.

He had talked to Pepper thirty-something hours before, when he had been so drunk that Jarvis had threatened to let Capsicle through if he didn't allow her onto his floor – a devious blackmail, but it had worked, so that he had found himself facing the one person he dreaded the most while he was in such condition.

He remembered little of those moments. Only Pepper hugging him and gifting him with some comforting words; he remembered the reassuring sound of her voice more than the meaning. He remembered her warmth, something that had brought him more nostalgia and less torment than he had expected. He remembered her perfume and the steady hand that had supported his head while he was puking and apologizing to her and to the world.

He had woken up in the morning with a horrible taste in his mouth and the smell of eggs and toasted bread in the air. Standing up had been a difficult task, more than he would have liked to admit, especially because the living room hadn't stopped spinning all around him. He had had to make three attempts to reach the kitchen, where his unfocused sight had recognized the unbelievable scene of Pepper with an apron around her waist cooking something that looked really edible.

He had made an unintelligible sound, something that could have been both a greeting and a surprised exclamation, and Pepper had turned around to stare at him from head to toe.

“Now you shower, you put on some clean clothes and try to return to human while I finish preparing breakfast. And I swear that if you dare to drink anything different than water, I'll bring you to one of those communities where you can't even keep your cellphone.”

Tony had frowned while looking at her, because that was a low blow, and it was totally unfair when he had already trouble remaining standing.

“You can't do that.”

Pepper had brandished a pan full of eggs like it was a weapon.

“I've already asked Jarvis to choose the best and most remote places, and Bruce volunteered to bring you there by force if you try to touch a bottle again.”

“This is a vile conspiracy,” he had muttered, but then he had reached the bathroom and had done exactly what Pepper had ordered.

After a shower and a couple of painkillers, he had felt better, and half an hour later he had convinced himself that he wouldn't die shortly, so he had returned to the kitchen, feeling the nausea disappearing, replaced by a consistent hunger.

He had eaten with little bites, testing his stomach, but the food was good and his body had seemed to appreciate it. In the end, he had finished a whole plate of eggs and sausages and drank two full cups of coffee. When his favorite non alcoholic beverage had begun having its effect, he had felt like he had been reborn.

Only in that moment he had realized that Pepper had remained silent for the whole breakfast, her worried, affectionate gaze focused on him.

“I'll forgive you only because you made breakfast,” he had murmured, still debating how grave the offense to forbid him alcohol should have been.

Strangely, she hadn't replied, she had only made an exasperated sound while clearing the table, before sitting down in front of him.

“You know it's not your fault, right?”

Tony had lifted his eyes from the third cup of coffee, frowning.

“What?”

“I saw what happened when you went against Red Skull. Part of it, at least.”

He had felt his stomach turning into ice, along with his chest, his Reactor, and his damaged heart underneath. He had passed one hand over his eyes, so tired and full of guilt that he didn't know where he would find the strength to open them again and face the gaze of the woman in front of him.

“Pepper...” he had murmured, without knowing how to go on.

Apologizing wouldn't make any sense; he knew he couldn't be forgiven, and he wasn't ready to see the horror and contempt he knew he deserved in the eyes of the only woman he had ever loved. There hadn't been horror in her eyes, thought, nor contempt or condemnation.

“You think it's your fault, don't you? Those... those hostages.”

He had swallowed with difficulty, and again the sand from Afghanistan had filled his mouth, together with the taste of blood and the dust of that day that would forever be branded like a curse in his memories.

“How can you know that?”

“Jarvis. I asked him what happened when you were taken, what you didn't say about the weeks of your disappearance, and he agreed to show me.” Pepper had looked at him with wet eyes, another stab to his already damaged heart. “I'm sorry, but you're killing yourself in front of my eyes, and I didn't know what to do because you don't talk to me anymore.”

“And what could I tell you? Tell you that I was wrong. That I killed children.”

Simply saying it had made bile rise through his throat. He had tasted it inside his mouth, bitter and acrid, while the weight on his chest worsened, seemed to crush him, stealing air from his lungs and making him fall down to an abyss where there was no light to be seen.

“You didn't kill anyone!”

Pepper was livid, standing in front of him. Livid and infuriated, and for a moment he had hoped she would hit him.

He had burst into a bitter laughter when he had realized the meaning of her words.

“Then Jarvis didn't show you well enough.”

“He showed me perfectly well. And he also gave me his explanation of why things had gone that way. Red Skull had the power of the Tesseract, which he used to divert your bullets. And then he took advantage of your shock to defeat you.”

Tony had shaken his head, letting his laughter die in defeated exhaustion.

“I was arrogant, Pep. I thought I was invincible, and those children died because of me.” He had felt a knot in his throat, the bile inside his mouth had tasted like tears, and he had felt the same desperation of the day before. Now, however, he was sober. “I saw them die.”

He had heard a breath breaking in a strangled sound, and only a couple of moments later he had realized it had come from Pepper and not from himself.

“Yes, you're an arrogant bastard who thinks he can solve everything by himself, and yes, sometimes you deserve someone who smacks you in the head and makes you get back in contact with reality. But you're human. Everyone makes mistakes, and you couldn't predict what would have happened when you went against that assassin. You can't take the blame for everything that happens around you.”

“Yes, I can, when I'm the one who causes it.”

She had shaken her head, determined and fierce in her denial, like she was facing an adversary during a conference.

“You couldn't know that Schmidt had that power. Being a hero doesn't mean always saving everyone. It means fighting to save as many people as you can and to make a difference when there isn't anyone else on the right side. Which is what you've always done.”

He had shaken his head too, the lump in his throat growing as big as a fist and equally suffocating.

“Pepper...”

She had searched for his gaze, stubborn until the end.

“I can't begin to imagine what you've been through. And I'm sure it was horrible; that it still is. But it wasn't your fault.” Pepper's hands had placed themselves on his, and her eyes that were still showing unspent tears contained an understanding and a love he didn't deserve. “I won't allow you to destroy yourself, Tony.”

And it had been a promise, the truest thing that had been said in that room during the last few minutes. Pepper wouldn't let him drown himself in alcohol and guilt, hiding in his lab and waiting for the end. She would remain by his side, even if  it would destroy her too.

He hadn't dr ank a drop of alcohol since then.

Even now that a sharp solitude allowed uncomfortable thoughts to haunt him in the silence, he didn't let his eyes wander towards the bar where he kept his alcoholic supplies. He passed one hand across his forehead, ignoring the grip on his chest. He needed something to do. Not sleeping, because the few hours he managed to rest were full of nightmares and blood. Not going out either, as too many people who would try to interact with him. He could go to his lab and keep working on his prototype, even if the lack of a source of magic to experiment on had slowed his progress. Or he could put on his suit and fly away, leaving it to the adrenaline to fill every part of his mind until it erased any other perceptions.

He could continue Bruce's research to find the god and reach him to have his revenge, and that mere thought was enough to make his fingers tingle in anticipation and his chest clench beneath the Reactor because of a totally different emotion.

“Mister Stark, Captain Rogers is asking access to your floor.”

Perfect. Just what he needed to improve his wonderful afternoon. But sooner or later he would have to face him anyway.

He sighed, before hiding his tiredness behind his usual, forced indifference.

“Let him in.”

And so he prepared himself to face the man he had punched only two days before.

 


	95. Chapter 93: Left out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story is almost over and still I don't know how to thank you all for your feedbacks and interest in what started as a little attempt to write some FrostIron smut. Thank you so much! And of course, huge thanks to Nyaed for her corrections. Enjoy your reading^^

**Chapter 93: Left out**

 

Captain America entered his floor with unusually hesitant steps.

He was dressed in civilian clothes, simple sweater pants and a t-shirt, and on his face he had a wary expression, but he didn't show any shades of hostility while he was studying Tony like he expected to be attacked any other moment. He didn't even have bruises on his mouth while Tony's knuckles were still skinned. Tony hid them with his other hand, his stomach already clenched because of that unwelcome visit.

“Well, then? To what do I owe your presence?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“And the others let you come here alone?”

Steve tried a smile, a hesitant, shy attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

“Natasha made a bet with Clint that you would punch me again. Clint bet that you'll annoy me so much that I'll punch you.”

“Wise boy.”

Tony's light voice must have relaxed him a little, because Steve took a couple of steps closer.

“About what happened...” he started, but Tony stopped him with a gesture of his hand.

“If you came here to open your heart and have a moment of manly emotionality, just know that this is not the right time.”

“I only wanted to say that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have attacked you like I did.”

With his gaze kept low and his hands inside his pockets, Captain America seemed like a scolded schoolboy. Tony would have laughed, if only he hadn't been so tired of everything.

“So, I'm the one who punched you, and you're the one apologizing?”

This time Steve lifted his eyes from his own feet to openly look at him.

“I don't know what happened with Loki, but I was wrong thinking that you had already recovered and were in top shape.”

“It didn't fucking happen with Loki,” Tony burst out before he could stop himself.

Steve startled, surprised, but he recovered a moment later.

“With Schmidt, then. If you went away you must have had your reasons, and I'm no one to judge them.”

Captain America refraining to judge him? That was new. Tony shook his head, feeling an arising headache.

“I'm way too sober for this shit.”

“I'm serious, Tony. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.”

“I'm fine. Actually, just give me some random villain to beat and I'll be even better.”

Steve hesitated again, then he showed a guilty expression.

“Not until you're stable. I... I'm sorry, Tony. Fury ordered to keep you on stand-by for a couple of weeks.”

The grip on his chest went to crush his lungs.

“You mean you're kicking me out?”

“No! We just want you to recover.”

Tony laughed, and it felt like he was skinning his throat.

“You're all okay with my money, you're okay with my hospitality and my gadgets, but now that I've been prisoner to a couple of psychopaths you don't want to play with me anymore?”

“You know it's not like that! It's only something temporary.” The Captain's voice became a murmur. “We've always been a team.”

“No, you're not. Not for me.”

Tony showed his back to him, the headache stronger than ever, his need for alcohol burning his mind.

“Jarvis, show Captain Rogers the exit.”

Even without looking at him he could guess at Steve's half attempt to reach for him.

“Tony.”

He didn't answer, only looked outside the window. He waited for almost a whole minute without turning around before he heard Steve's steps walking away and then disappearing in the elevator.

“Do you want me to prepare the lab?” Jarvis asked, his voice soft and protective, like he too feared Tony would lash out.

He felt again the urge to laugh at himself, at how he had managed to worry Pepper and now even his AI.

He shook his head.

“I guess that's Natasha and Fury's work. Let's leave the prototype alone for today. I want to take a look to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s server.”

“With pleasure.”

Almost four hours had passed.

Four hours spent hacking the server of one of the most powerful organizations in the world, finding secrets belonging to spies that were able to keep their lips sealed to their grave, collecting documents and information that would be able to destroy Fury, S.H.I.E.L.D. and several members of the Council. After having examined every document about the Avengers, he was now taking a look around the detention area, just to keep his boredom away – only for that, not because he wanted to assure himself that he wouldn't find a familiar god anywhere – when his phone rang.

“Jarvis, tell who's calling that I'm not here.”

“It's Doctor Banner. He's specifically asking for you, sir.”

“Tell Doctor Banner that if he wants to talk to me, he has to choose my team first. The Jolly Green is welcome too.”

“He's very insistent.”

With a sigh, Tony resigned himself to answer.

“This is Tony Stark's voice mail. Swear an oath of loyalty to me against Capsicle or hang up.”

“Tony.”

“So, Bruce. My team or Capsicle's?”

“What happened?”

“Are you really telling me you missed that I assaulted the perfect teeth of our most famous American boy-scout and that I almost broke two knuckles in the attempt to ruin his smile?”

Tony counted ten seconds of silence since he stopped talking.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all; ask Jarvis.”

“I confirm everything, Doctor Banner.”

Bruce sighed.

“I've just talked to Clint, who told me about your suspension from the team, and I was calling to hear how you were, but I didn't imagine things had gotten so animated.”

“I'll show you the recording as soon as you are back. But now, on a more important matter, what team do you choose? I have a perfectly equipped lab, and I know the difference between analog and digital.”

From the other end of the phone, Tony guessed there was a smile.

“You know I'm your friend. I guess I'll be on stand-by too; after all it won't be bad to have some calm for the Other Guy.”

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

“Sometimes, but I doubt that yours is an unselfish declaration.” Bruce hesitated one moment. “You're not drinking, are you?”

“Don't tempt me.”

There was a pause.

“Are you hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s server?”

Despite everything, Tony let out a smile.

“Bingo.”

“Try to stay away from trouble.” Another pause, like Bruce was looking for the most fitting words to use with him. “If tomorrow I'm back, will there be a place for me in your lab?”

“There always is a place for you. But don't fret, I have no intentions on being arrested for a boring crime, such as the violation of a server which is so little protected,” he told Bruce, but he was surprised when he realized he truly wanted to see him.

It seemed like he didn't want to stand solitude anymore, and maybe doing some science together would cheer him up, helping him forget harassing dreams, American legends with their jaws too hard, and asshole directors who wanted to decide of his life as a superhero.

“Okay. Tomorrow afternoon I'll be back, but call me if you need anything.”

“Yes, mum.”

The communication ended, but Tony didn't even realize it. He only let his phone fall down on his legs, too busy staring at the screen of his computer with wide eyes and an icy sensation crawling in his chest.

It wasn't possible. It must have been a nightmare, one of images that visited him during the night, staining his dreams a vivid red.

He closed his hands into fists until his palms bled; his breath was stuck in his throat, and his heart was slamming itself against the Reactor at every painful beat.

In the cell that was showing on his computer, lacking an arm but undoubtedly alive, there was Johann Schmidt.

 


	96. Epilogue: Tying up the loose ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the epilogue! I started posting this story on May 16th several years ago and I thought it fitting to end it the same day. Plus it's my birthday and I'm still in shock because I've recently watched Civil War, so I wanted to do something that would cheer me up XD I hope that, after all this time, the ending won't be a disappointment. Thank you for your feedbacks and special thanks to Nyaed for her corrections. Enjoy your reading!

**Epilogue: Tying up the loose ends**

 

Infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. proved as easy as hacking into the server of MIT during his first years of attendance.

An uniform, a fake identification card, and the map of the building on the microcomputer he wore around his wrist like a watch, where he could see the guards' movement in real time, allowed him to pass the most populated floor without any problems.

Convincing the elevator to accept his fingerprints and his retina was only a little harder, but Jarvis had already taken control of the surveillance cameras. Tony only had to plug in the USB flash drive he had brought to open the elevator and reach the basement where highest security prisoners were being held.

“There are two armed guards in front of the elevator. I suggest you to use the suppressor during the next ten seconds, sir.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.”

He pressed against one of the walls of the elevator so that he wouldn't be seen, and as soon as the doors began to open, he placed the tiny sphere on the floor and pushed it towards the hallway. There were no sounds, except for a low hiss – it was a little, harmless sphere which was able to fire tranquillizer darts thanks to Jarvis' remote control, one of the inventions he had worked on while he was bored because of the lack of progress with his anti-magic prototype – and the two agents guarding the elevator fell down with two simultaneous thuds.

“If you reach the right hallway and follow the map, you'll have a clear path for two minutes and twenty seconds, sir,” Jarvis told him, while Tony crouched down to collect the suppressor.

“Roger that.”

He walked through the hallway with his grip on the suitcase so tight that he feared he would distort the handle. He got rid of another guard with the suppressor, catching him by surprise thanks to Jarvis' indication, then he used the electronic key that would convince the last door he possessed Fury's fingerprints and voice to pass the last obstacle that separated him from his target. Once it opened he froze.

Loki was in front of him, sitting on the cot where Schmidt should have been.

“I was wondering when you would arrive.”

For a moment, Tony couldn't breathe. He was sure that all of this was just a huge joke from the fates.

He acted out of instinct, while he was still trying to accept the fact that the god was in a S.H.I.E.L.D. cell, but it didn't matter: Loki was there, and Tony had a chance for payback. His suitcase had already started to unfold, morphing into his suit, giving him a weapon in a confrontation for which he had been yearning since the moment he had been pushed off the roof.

Just a second before his suit began covering his body, though, he found himself thrown into the wall without the god even making a movement towards him.

“Calm down, Stark. There is no need to make a fuss.”

Muffling a curse, Tony desperately tried to free himself from the invisible force that was forcing him against the wall, with his breath heavy and his heart hammering against the Reactor, but he wasn't able to move, not even an inch. Schmidt was at his feet. Dead. His body had been torn apart, and his face was frozen in an expression of unbearable agony; soon he would be the same. He returned to watching the god again, cursing his own slowness and the fact he hadn't brought his prototype with him – and why should he have brought it, when he had been ready to face only S.H.I.E.L.D.? However, the thought of having the perfect weapon to exact vengeance, if only as a prototype, and having left it at home burnt.

It wasn't fair, and he knew that nothing in the world was truly fair, but still he couldn't avoid feeling like his chest was full of rage and regrets. He wanted to at least have a chance against the bastard god, to see if his prototype functioned, to die with dignity, and not like an harmless mortal.

“Come on, Kylo, what are you waiting for? Just kill me,” he spat out.

Loki arched one of his eyebrows.

“And why should I kill you?”

He burst into a bitter laughter.

“Why, you ask?” He struggled again against the pressure that was holding him trapped before replacing the laughter with a glare. “You were the one who pushed me off the roof the last time we saw each other, or did you forget?”

Loki rolled his eyes , and if Tony hadn't been blocked by his magic, he would have attacked him barehanded.

“I wonder if your intelligence is maybe a sporadic condition,” the god commented, making a slight movement with his fingers.

The invisible force disappeared in an instant, and Tony fell down deadweight, panting.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he growled while he was still trying to regain control of his body so that he could get up and strangle the god.

“I do not want to kill you now, and I did not want to kill you then.”

“Well, good way to show me, making me do a leap towards the asphalt.”

Loki met his eyes with a smile, following his uncertain movements until Tony managed to stand up again.

“Do you really think that if I had wanted to kill you I would have pushed you exactly when Thor was passing nearby?” The god smiled. “It would have been more efficient to just break your neck.”

And it was true to a point that Tony stopped himself for a moment before trying again to put his suit on and look for vengeance in an unfair fight in one of the highest security buildings belonging to S.H.I.E.L.D..

“I guess it makes sense,” he grumbled with a little reluctance because he hated to be proved wrong even when the tables were being turned with such speed that he felt almost dizzy.

He looked at the god, then he shifted his attention towards the corpse that laid between them without holding back a grimace.

Loki had taken both his chances at vengeance from him.

“So, what are you doing here?”

In any other case, he would have speculated it was an attempt from the god to frame him for Schmidt's murder, maybe set off the alarm before disappearing, leaving him as the only culprit, but the Nazi had been pierced by an half dozen knifes made from ice, which were still sticking out from his dead body like a signature, and not even all of Fury's will could connect those weapons to him.

“Did you really thought I would let a mortal who dared to defy me live?”

“And you thought to come settle the score only now? Right before I came here too?”

The god shrugged.

“I was not aware of his survival. I discovered it with you.”

For a moment, Tony stared at him with a gaping mouth before his surprise was replaced by his indignation.

“I knew it! I knew it wasn't only my imagination that there really was an invisible stalker who made my things disappear and preyed on my favorite bottles and harassed me during the night.”

Loki shot him a grin.

“Stalker?” he asked then, in a questioning voice.

“A sociopath who is morbidly, obsessively in love with someone, who spies and follows them, invades their home, and doesn't have the slightest respect of the basic concept of privacy. In the matter in question, you.” And it was unbelievable how much that discovery was lightening his chest, giving him a hint of triumph.

On the god's face, the grin was replaced by a grimace.

“I only wanted to make sure that you did not drown yourself in alcohol before our showdown.”

Tony snorted.

“Don't tell me you're getting emotional.”

The god returned serious and Tony felt his eyes sliding down his frame in a burning path. For a moment, it was like he was back to a room full of alien corpses with adrenalin filling his veins like a drug and Loki above him, his demanding mouth on his own, his hands exploring every inch of his body to caress and own and give him pleasure.

“You belong to me, Stark. Be it in my abode or in yours, it matters not.”

Swallowing, for Tony, suddenly became very difficult.

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

But part of him had already decided to take his words with an increased heartbeat and an annoying and at the same time pleasant sensation of warmth inside his chest.

Loki smiled at him without averting his eyes.

“You should.”

Tony's briefcase was still between them, half turned into his suit, but he didn't have any intentions to fight anymore, not now that it was so clear that they weren't really enemies. The god must have noticed the change in his mood, since he relaxed, and for a moment it was like a few weeks before, when they had enjoyed each others company more than they had expected.

“You know,” Loki began, swinging his legs like he was a young boy, the glimpse of a smile at the edge of his mouth, “My offer still stands.”

Tony met his eyes with a shiver. Loki was exactly what he desired: an interesting mind, a perfect body, a lover, and a myster,y and a god with whom he had maybe begun feeling much too comfortable.

And he was tempted, even more than the last time, now that his life was in pieces and that every single day as Tony Stark had become a torment. Leaving a house where he felt like a stranger and the people he couldn't bear to face would be easier, way easier, than staying. He gave form to his regret through a smile before shaking his head.

“I could never abandon Capsicle and the others. They would be completely lost without me. But my offer still stands too.”

“I have already told you what I think of it.”

“I guess there's not much more to say, then. There are no windows to push me through, will you break my neck?”

The god smiled.

“Not without your suit. It would not be fair.”

Tony offered his hand the same way he had done on the roof.

“Well then, no too hard feelings?” he asked, but instead of accepting his hand, Loki stepped closer with a fluid, elegant movement that was so fast Tony almost didn't register it, and in the blink of an eye his hand was on Tony's hair, tugging it a little, just enough to give him a not unpleasant glimpse of pain.

“Stark,” he murmured, a breath away from his lips.

It was Tony who started the kiss, a contact so familiar that he felt the urge to melt against the god and the same time to grab his shoulders and never let go, to have the certainty that he could keep the god with him forever, because Loki was kissing him back with his same need, teeth, tongue and lips that wanted to mark and explore and own every inch of his mouth. The god was the only person Tony had seen in the last few weeks without having felt the desire to disappear or to hide in the solitude of his lab, he was the safety that the part of him that was still broken desperately needed.

He bit down on his lower lip hard with a needy sound he would be ashamed of in other circumstances, and suddenly they were pressed together, devouring each other, rubbing against each other's body through clothes that had never been as frustrating as that moment – and was it really so wrong to have sex in a room where there was a corpse  _again_ ?

Tony arched against the god, looking for some friction, while he was sure that his erection trapped in his boxers would kill him in matter of seconds if he couldn't free it, and then he found himself kissing the air.

He immediately opened his eyes, panting.

“Son of a bitch.”

In the sudden silence of an empty cell, there echoed a dark laugh.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so this story ends. As some of you already know or have guessed, there will be a sequel focusing on the war against Thanos and on the sort of relationship between Loki and Tony. Before that, though, thank you so much to you all! I started translating this story as an attempt at my first translation to English and I would never imagine that so many of you would read it and even leave me reviews. I'm actually quite moved to see how many people caught interest in it. I really hope you like how I chose to end it, even if it wasn't an actual end. 
> 
> I also want to give special thanks to Sara, fabricdragon and Nyaed, who all helped me with my chapters.
> 
> Now I'm taking some time to focus on my real life, evil exams are coming. But I'll return with the sequel as soon as I can. I just have to decide whether to publish it as soon as I write a new chapter, like I have done until now, or to start publishing it only when it's finished.
> 
> So, this is it. I'd love to know what you thought about my story, now that it's ended, but anyway, thank you for having followed me so far.


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